A Snake in the Mists
by Ramzes
Summary: Instead of frail Elia Martell, Rhaegar Targaryen got a wife who could give him all the children he wanted. But love is the death of duty and the realm still burned. Kind of AU to my own AU. Thanks to mevanss for the idea!
1. The New Bride

A Snake in the Mists

 _The New Bride_

"I am sorry, my lady," Rhaegar Targaryen said, not quite daring to look at his future bride. "The King… he is…" His voice trailed off. He couldn't think of anything to say and whatever else he said, it would be a lie. It was just so humiliating – for him, for her.

Alynna Jordayne smiled, although there was no merriment in it. "I understand, Your Grace. I truly do. And I really don't think we should let his absence darken the joy of our union."

The irony of this statement struck Rhaegar like a warhammer. She looked no more joyful than he did. For both of them, this wedding was just something they needed to go through. The years of marriage following it would be something that they could go through more privately, to some extent. But today, they had to go through the motions in front of everyone and pretend that nothing unusual had happened. No matter how hard they tried, people would know that they were just covering up the slight, yet another, quite ignoble thought would not leave him alone _. Let people see how mad my father is, scared by shadows that only lived in his own mind!_ That could be only good, yet something in the lady's determination struck a troubled chord with him. She was way too unbothered, determined to take the matter in her own hands. Was this how their shared life was going to be? Rhaegar certainly did not intend to treat his lady wife the way his father treated his mother but something about this woman… She was too self-assured. Like a man.

But of course, they had no choice but go with her suggestion. And the wedding of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Alynna Gargalen of Salt Shore was celebrated with great pomp, although the King's refusal to attend was widely discussed – one of the many dark blots upon the ceremony, starting with the general dislike of the bride. Alynna had the blood of the dragon, courtesy of her lady grandmother Daella Targaryen, a daughter of King Maekar's. Her reputation was beyond reproach. Sure, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was expected to belong to one of the Great Houses and be a maiden, not a widowed mother of three, but none of the former non-dragon queens had descended from a Great House either and Alynna's first marriage was a good thing, actually, after his mother's tragedies in the birthing bed. She had proven her fertility, delivered a boy and fully recovered to make the trip to King's Landing only a month after her last birth. She was sure to give Rhaegar children, and many of them. On top of that, the Seven had seen it fitting to make her a beauty into the bargain – yes, a beauty she was. Her face and frame were delightful. No man could see her without turning his head to watch her longer, and yet it was not a beauty that could touch Rhaegar's heart. She was too dark, her lips too full, her waist too slim, her hips too wide. He longed for a proud Valyrian beauty and hers was a sun-kissed sensual one. Rhaegar was not a sensual man and she made him feel awkward, painfully aware that he'd justify her hopes just as little as she would his.

* * *

"Did my lady love her first husband?" Rhaegar asked and immediately regretted his question. What concern of his was this? And if he truly wanted to know – he didn't, - it was his lady wife he should ask. But he didn't dare.

Arthur Dayne looked around for something to sit on. "Isn't there a chair in this castle?" he asked, not finding one in Rhaegar's study.

The Prince shrugged. "The Princess threw them all out," he said. "Well, she sent those who were still serviceable according to her, at another wing but she proclaimed that she "wouldn't make people sit in things that might break under the weight of a cat just because they used to be Aegon the Conqueror's"."

Arthur laughed and finally settled on a chest that was solid enough to bear his weight. The renovation of the old castle was developing with speed that would have surprised him, had he not known the Princess in question. The newlyweds had left King's Landing in less than two months but in just another one or so, Dragonstone would be a home ready to accommodate Alynna's needs. Arthur could swear that there would be at least give fireplaces widened.

Rhaegar, though, was not a man who would cherish things like domestic comfort. Especially if they intervened with his cherished peace to read his scrolls – and the renovations had somehow reached his very private space. Arthur's amusement faded. "She's just throwing things into the cellar?" he asked. He couldn't quite believed it. As intense and efficient as Alynna was, she wasn't this forceful. She would not do such a thing without asking Rhaegar's opinion.

"She'll make an old-time wing," Rhaegar replied. "It'll be lovely."

 _But it won't be the same_ , Arthur realized and wondered why Rhaegar hadn't just told Alynna so.

"So?" Rhaegar asked again. "The first husband?"

Arthur slowly nodded. "Yes, she loved Myles. Like me, he was fostered with her uncle. They knew each other since children."

 _What does friendship have to do with love_ , Rhaegar wondered but like everything else to do with Alynna, perhaps he just didn't understand. What he understood was that it was another thing distancing him from her, this woman with experience in bed, experience in… marital feelings.

* * *

The little round Septa Sinara was clearly uncomfortable on the bench pulled from the garrison's quarters and Alynna looked around for a pillow but when she tried to hand it to the older woman, she waved a dismissive hand. "I am well aware of the chaos in a house being renovated," she said and a quick smile crossed her lips. "Although the castles have been considerably smaller than this one. I would have expected that you'd stay in King's Landing until the repairs are finished."

Alynna took a seat on a footstool and looked up at the woman. She was getting tired with everyone being so surprised with her living conditions. What was so hard about understanding that she wanted her home to look in a certain way that she could assure only by being here and making the decisions at place without delay? She was young and strong, she was wed to a young and strong man, they could surely take a few months of inconvenience for the sake of having a better and comfortable home than this majestic dragon tomb with furniture that was ready to fall apart despite the virtue of having belonged to the Targaryens before the Conquest – or perhaps for that reason. She took delight in seeing the changes taking place. Next week, they could start making the old rooms that would be more to Rhaegar's taste.

The small woman's eyes fell on the Princess' hands, rough and reddened, and the respect in them grew. She slowly nodded. "I can see I have taken your measure wrong, Your Grace," she said frankly. "What is it that you want of me?"

"I know you're very engaged with charity at King's Landing," Alynna said. "I would like to discuss the foundation of a net of charities about homeless… and unwanted children. It'll cover the entire Crownlands."

For a moment, her eyes went darker. She blinked to chase the sudden tears away. The septa tactfully looked away.

"Here," Alynna went on. "I've got some data on the major towns. And I've got the initial funding. I'd like to get your help for the practical organization. For now, I won't be able to supervise the work in person, so I'd like to have someone experienced."

 _And then you're going to meddle in everything,_ the septa thought. That was not the way of noble ladies but the Princess of Dragonstone was not like other ladies. Sinara's eyes went to the other woman's reddened hands. She slowly nodded. "Let's see those papers."

This night, Rhaegar came earlier. Alynna saw him in the looking-glass and her hands instinctively fell down, ceasing their work. She nodded at his reflection. "You're early," she said. "Was it a long day?"

Once again, he had spent it with some lords who had no business being at Dragonstone. No evident business anyway.

"One can say so," Rhaegar replied. The look in her eye told him that she knew what he was keeping from her. He thought about confiding in her – after all, she was a clever woman and she would not even think of judging him. In the brief period of their staying at King's Landing she had surely saw just how poorly his father was. And what woman wouldn't want to become queen? "What are you doing? Are you well?" he asked again, concerned, now that he was near enough to her uncomfortable chair and the looking-glass to see her pale face and the tears running down her cheek. Before her, two bowls sparkled white with… Impossible!

"You're draining your breasts?" he asked and she nodded. From this close, she looked even worse. Like someone in great pain.

"I thought that once you were... away from your babe, it just stopped."

Alynna smiled regretfully. "I wish it was so easy. I just hope it stops soon."

"Do you need to do it this so forcefully?" Rhaegar asked, sickened at the sight of her breasts that in their bed darkness covered in a veil of mercy. They were engorged, red, cracked, bearing the signs of her hands squeezing them.

"It'll probably be easier if I leave some milk in there," she admitted. "Less painful."

"Then why don't you do it?"

"Because it'll make it longer and for a woman, it's harder to conceive while she still has her milk," she said simply and to this, Rhaegar had nothing to say, nothing at all.

* * *

Alynna was lying in bed, leaning against the headboard, the newborn on her breast. Her tears flowed freely, that happiness that was too deep for words and descended on her upon the births of any of her children leaving place for nothing else. She breathed the little girl in, hearing the relieved chatter of midwives and handmaidens like a distant echo. A maester was asking her questions, doing his best to keep her awake, for sleep was the greatest danger to new mothers. She answered distractedly, wanting only to have him away, so she'd have her babe for herself and nothing to disturb them.

"Leave us," her mother said authoritatively and the tall man gave her a mutinous look. Ranna Gargalen had intervened more than once during the delivery and he had taken this as a challenge to his authority. "We won't let her go to sleep," she added and he reluctantly shuffled to the door. Alynna closed her eyes, waiting for everyone to leave.

"It's fine," Elia said after a moment. "They're gone."

"Good," Alynna sighed and let the exhaustion pour off her skin, aging her, turning her into the battle survivor that she was. When she opened her eyes, her mother and Elia were sitting at her bedside.

"She's lovely," Elia said, smiling at the little girl.

"I hope her father thinks so as well," Alynna murmured. She was well aware that she had been expected to produce a boy, an heir. Now, she'd have to do what Elia had done for Baelor Hightower after she had given him their fiistborn, a daughter – she had gotten with child almost immediately and almost died birthing it. _But at least it was a son_ , Alynna thought bitterly. It was a good thing indeed since there would be no more children for Elia.

"I wish we were still in Dorne," Elia said wistfully. Alynna didn't even get the strength to nod. She desperately wanted to be back in the land where her daughter would be celebrated, just like her first Jordayne daughter had been, and not a disappointment, a nice acquisition on the way to the true goal.

"Open your eyes," Elia insisted and her mother even poked her. Alynna obeyed and groaned at the intense power of the sun making its way through the thick curtains of her renewed bedchamber.

"I hear you're well," someone said from the door. Rhaegar. "I'm happy to see it," he said and the two women offered their congratulations before leaving.

Alynna's heart was pounding so hard that she was sure he could hear it from where he was. Would he be disappointed? Would he turn away from this olive-skinned child? She knew that he disliked her looks – or perhaps not exactly disliked it but didn't find it compelling.

It had been so different with Myles. They hadn't enjoyed a passionate love like that of her parents either but what they had had been warm and stable, nourished and cherished. They had loved being together. He hadn't thought her forceful and overreaching and in turn, he hadn't dragged her down in a cloud of sadness like Rhaegar did. At this moment, she longed and grieved for him as she hadn't done since the very first days after she learned of his death.

She looked down but the babe was still sleeping on her chest. As she wondered how to hand her to her father without waking her, Rhaegar shook his head for her not to bother and simply sat at her bedside, at the place her mother had just vacanted. He looked pale and withdrawn and Alynna realized just how terrible this waiting had been for him. She held no illusions that he loved her but it hadn't mattered. She had just fought a battle for him, to give him an heir or die trying to. And it had led to…

His expression made her hold her breath. She had never seen him look at someone with such love as he was looking at this tiny newborn right now. He reached out and stroked her dark cheek softly, almost timidly. Alynna took his hand and pressed it against the small smooth surface. Again, her heart ached, painfully reminded of almost the same moments with her older children. But she didn't say anything – for Rhaegar the child they had just been given was their first and she didn't want to spoil his joy by reminding him that it wasn't so for her, that hers was a bitter joy.

"She's beautiful," he breathed, although all he could see was the outline of cheek and nose, the rest being buried against Alynna. "Rhaenys."

Suddenly, all of Alynna's sorrows and reflections were forgotten. She stared at him, almost tried to rise. "What?"

"Her name," he explained. "She'll be named after the foundress of our dynasty."

Alynna shook her head. "It's a bad omen," she said. "You know what happened to Rhaenys Targaryen. She died in Dorne and her death was not a pretty one. We cannot name our girl so."

He stared at her, amazed that she disliked the idea, and she stared back, amazed that he hadn't even thought to consult her on the matter.

"It's a good name, Alynna," he explained. "Rhaenys was a great queen and the one Aegon truly loved. Our daughter will be beloved to her royal husband, her brother…"

"Don't remind me," Alynna cut him off because her stomach was already roiling at the notion. She tried to speak softly because the child against her was already stirring. "That's a name no Dornishman or woman can speak without revulsion. She came to Dorne to bring fire and blood and she met her just end but not before bringing fire and blood indeed. You cannot be serious about naming our daughter something that her mother hates and distrusts."

He didn't hesitate. "I am sorry but you'll have to learn to say it with love now. She must have a Targaryen name and I…"

She clung to that. "Yes! A Targaryen name! Perhaps we could name her after your mother? Or my lady grandmother? Anything but that."

He sighed. "Don't be so agitated, Alynna, you aren't doing yourself any favours. You've just given birth. Just rest and enjoy her. I'll take care of everything."

That was exactly what Alynna feared! "You cannot," she insisted. "You shouldn't."

"It's already decided."

She stroked her daughter's downy head. "And did it ever occur to you to ask me, her mother?"

His silence was answer enough. No, it hadn't.


	2. A Snake and a Crown

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I didn't really expect much interest for an AU to an AU!**

A Snake in the Mists

 _A Snake and a Crown_

Spring was coming, delicate hesitant timid, yet stepping ahead unmistakably. The children in the fishing village were the first one to feel it – they ran around dressed more lightly and far more frequently, their shouts were more exuberant, boasting with having caught fish that Alynna very well knew didn't come in such sizes. One day, when she made her usual walk around the island and they surrounded her, the news of her coming having spread through those mysterious channels smallfolk always had.

"Princess!" one of her favourites, a boy of five, a little younger than her own son, cried out. "Look what Father caught!"

Alynna gasped dramatically. The fish was quite big indeed and worthy of admiration and her reaction made the child beam. "Today, I'll be sitting next to you!" he announced and a quarrel immediately burst out. Everyone wanted to sit next to this princess who didn't behave like a princess. She carried some highborn food from the kitchens and baked the fish they offered almost as deftly as their own mothers. Some of the fishermen who weren't at sea this day would often wander to sit down with them.

"My father is a mariner," she had explained more than once. "We've been taught to cherish what sea gives us."

The household in the castle had long ago become accustomed to the smell of fish and smoke that clung to her long after their weekly feast was over.

Today, the children were even more boisterous than usual as they showed her the new, peculiar seashell the sea had spit over last night. Breathless joy was streaming through their hairs, streaming in their blood. Spring was renewal, energy, lifeblood. It was so for Alynna, too, although in her youth, it had been sharper.

Alynna took a seat on her very own rock, grimacing a little. The belly was already starting to make her feel uncomfortable. She could hardly wait for this babe to be born – and there would be five months until it happened. Seeing that the children were now running away barefoot, she took her shoes off and wiggled her toes experimentally in the socks before deciding that it was way too cold and put the shoes on again. Those closest to her laughed.

"Look!" someone cried out. "A raven!"

Alynna looked up and the direction from which the dark bird was coming told her that her time for rest was over. There was another game to be played.

* * *

The news hit her like a brick but she didn't lose time wondering how and why it was.

"How much do you think he knows?" she asked and the three men gave her a startled look.

"It might be a coincidence," Arthur said unconvincingly and Alynna gave him a scathing look.

"I'm sure it is," she said in a way showing that she didn't share this opinion.

In the renewed solar that Rhaegar enjoyed immensely now that the repairs in the castle had been finished, the mood became colder than the winter that was now going away. Alynna was right, of course. Everyone knew it. The King had not left the Red Keep in years and now he had suddenly decided to attend the tournament? There was some chance for a coincidence but it was a very small one indeed.

"So much waste of time and resources," Rhaegar said wearily, and Alynna gaped at him.

" _What?"_

He looked at her, stunned disbelief in his eyes. "He knows, Alynna. At least, he suspects which in his mind is the same thing as knowing. We cannot go on with the plan. Surely you can see this?"

She shook her head, horror shaking her. She could see no such thing at all.

Silently, Lewyn Martell came behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder and she noticed Rhaegar's brief look of discomfort. That was no behavior fitting for a Kingsguard – and she got the impression that people truly expected Kingsguard to leave their past behind. Lewyn was no better in this than keeping his vow of chastity. And it was hard to treat one simply as Kingsguard when they had been her pony decades ago. "Tread carefully," he warned softly but Alynna was in no mind for subtlety. All this time and effort – and Rhaegar was ready to give it up at the first obstacle?

"Don't you get it?" she asked, looking from face to face. "That's our chance! Out of King's Landing, he won't be this powerful. Varys won't be with him, right? So we only need to make a plan according to the architecture of Harrenhall. One dark night, and we can have him smuggled away in secret. At the time, people would have seen just how mad he is. They'll be relieved to see him removed from power! And before the word spread, our garrison here might trickle in King's Landing and lay a hand on the Red Keep…"

The plan was maturing in her mind even as she talked. Lewyn nodded thoughtfully and Rhaegar listened to her with great attention but at the end started pacing the room, shaking his head. "No," he said. "Too many unknowns. That'll be a terrible risk. We had everything planned out…"

"And our plans got intercepted," she said. "That's the risk of any plan involving more than one person. And that's the strength of short-term plans – or no plans at all. No one can catch a wind of them!"

The sun started setting – too early, as it always did at Dragonstone. Alynna still couldn't get used to it. Shadows started sneaking their way along the walls and dragon arches. At one point, one dragon looked as if he was breathing a dark flame. Alynna looked away, straight at Rhaegar who didn't look convinced.

"What do you think about that?" she turned to Arthur.

He didn't hesitate. "I remember being a child at Salt Shore," he said nostalgically and the three of them stared at him. Was this the moment? "There was this favourite game of ours… We went to the Hoof – that's a rock plunging straight to the sea, crowning a small patch of earth cutting in it," he explained for Rhaegar. "We drew a deep breath and we jumped. About a hundred feet in the air before we hit the water. It was the most wonderful feeling ever, flying in the air, embracing the sea."

 _Ah!_ Now, Alynna knew where he was headed and barely bit back her smile.

"Do you know what happened when one hesitated before they jumped?" Arthur smiled faintly. "They didn't jump at all."

* * *

When Rhaegar's hand ventured under the cover and reached for her belly, Alynna didn't push it away but she didn't take it and place it there herself either. Thinking that he could feel the babe was nice but his refusal to provide security for it was not such a great thing.

"You're still angry," Rhaegar said in the darkness.

"Why should I be?" Alynna asked. "It isn't as if you're throwing my year of efforts away just because of a little problem. Indeed, I'm happy. I mean, which woman wouldn't be?"

He could feel her shiver. Even with the spring coming, the nights were cold. He rose and went to stoke the fire.

"Thank you," Alynna murmured automatically.

He walked back to the bed but didn't climb in. Instead, he watched her intently. "You are scared, aren't you?" he asked, realization suddenly dawning. Her fire and intensity masked any worry all too well.

"I'm terrified," she replied. "Each month, each week we postpone dethroning your father is time that we can never get back. He's getting worse, people are suffering, faith in the dynasty is fading away, and my little girl smells Dornish. And now you refuse to take action. Yes, I'm scared."

She saw his face and regretted his words immediately. "No, don't utter a sound!" she warned. "I don't want to hear about this prophecy. If you have something new to tell me, then by any means do so. For instance, if you can tell me what this Prince Who Was Promised is supposed to _do_ , I'm all ears. But until then, I think we'll be doing our duty best if we teach our children to be good rulers and good people – in this order. For that matter, I think we should pay more attention to keeping the Seven Kingdoms running smoothly and prosperously, to better be armed to meet such a threat."

Rhaegar sighed and climbed in bed. Alynna had already turned to her side ignoring him. The prophecy was one thing that this worldly-minded woman, this woman of today could never understand. She didn't even believe in the omen of the red comet. Nothing could convince her in the importance of what was Rhaegar's lifework. Yet another thing that would forever drive them apart.

* * *

"I still think we should have acted now," Errol Gargalen said as soon as he found himself alone with Alynna – well, almost alone since Ashara Dayne was arranging the flowers in a corner, so propriety was maintained. Alynna dearly wished to have most of those thrown out. To her, being with child was rarely painful, albeit uncomfortable – but morbid aversion to strong scents was painful indeed. Of course, since they had been provided by their hosts, there was nothing that she could do.

"Say it to him," Alynna replied, trying to keep her composure. What was Errol expecting that she could do? Surely he would not expect that she shared Rhaegar's revulsion to action? "The Seven know that he won't listen to me."

"Yes, that was my impression as well," Errol agreed and Alynna looked away, feeling incredibly humiliated. If he hadn't been anyone else but her cousin, her longlife friend, it wouldn't have been this worse. But he had seen Myles cherishing her, respecting her opinion, taking her advice. While Rhaegar did respect her and was ready to listen to her arguments almost every time she wanted to make them, he had been anxious and cross since their arrival. In her family's eyes, her situation looked worse than it was because they had her life with Myles to compare to what they saw now.

"Is this the reason you came to see me?" she asked bitterly. "To tell me just how powerless I am?"

"In fact, it wasn't," he said after a pause. "I wanted to give this to you. I hope you'll forgive me for being rude."

Alynna saw the star kisses in the small pot he produced out of nowhere, and beamed. She reached out and gently stroked the green leaves and the dark-purple petals rimmed in white. "Ah Errol, you haven't forgotten that I love star kisses!"

Their hands touched over the petals and Alynna held her breath when a flame rose and jumped between their fingers. The feeling was so strong that she looked down and was astounded that she didn't see anything but stars of flowers.

"If I was sure it could win me a smile like this, I would have given up on Salt Shore and become a gardener!"

The words hung between them. Their smiles faded. For years, Alynna had asked herself why he had distanced himself from her, what she had done to hurt or offend him and each time, she reached the same answer – it wasn't her fault. Only two years ago she had realized what it was – and he knew that she knew. A whirlwind of feelings threatened to sweep her. The pale hair, the chiseled face and purple eyes – they were so much like Rhaegar's and yet they now captivated her in a way her husband's never had. She had never felt this way around Errol before. Ever.

"I think I should go now," he said after a pause.

"I agree," she said tonelessly, looking away.

* * *

All smiles died.

The girl slowly rose, looking stunned and then looking around, as if trying to find help, or someone to tell her what she should do. The queen of love and beauty!

A scream rising in her throat, Alynna rose, groaning a little and pressing a hand to her belly to calm down the fierce kicks inside. Now, everyone had turned their heads to her, wondering what she would do. Perhaps they expected that she'd smile and pretend that nothing had happened, like an obedient wife should? Well, they would be disappointed! With a fierce swish of skirts, she turned around and left the box, her ladies hurrying behind her. The wind made her gown cling to her and she pushed her belly further away. _Let everyone see!_

Everywhere, this terrible silence held on.

Their solar was her first stop. Once inside, she grabbed her husband's inkwell and poured it over the book opened on the table. Then, under her ladies' wide eyes, she headed for Rhaegar's harp and cut the strings, one by one. Finally, she looked around, grabbed a heavy footstool and brought it upon the instrument, leaving a heavy indentation. _Now, he isn't the only one who has worked hard today,_ she thought with satisfaction.

And then, at last, the scream made its way.

* * *

"Your Grace. May I have a word?"

His goodfather's face was carved in stone but he was the first person who clearly wanted to talk about what had taken place. Robert Baratheon was looking daggers at him, Eddard Stark was probably busy keeping his hotheaded brother away from him, Lyanna was somewhere away without having looked at him even once after this first initial look of stunned joy and disbelief in the very first moment of her crowining. Arthur and Lewyn hadn't said a word, his father had lost it more than he had thought was even possible… At least someone wanted to talk.

"We can go to the Tower of Ghosts," Carral Gargalen suggested. His voice was even and Rhaegar felt relieved that finally, he'd talk to someone who would listen to common sense. Everyone behaved as if he had thrown his wife, so obviously heavy with his child, out in the cold!

The walk to the ruins was a brief one, leading them to a place of pain and destruction that claimed Rhaegar's soul in a single strike. It was not like the dreadful and beautiful towers of Summerhall at all. A mound of fissures and stones in shades of black that nature could never produce. High above their heads, openings for embrasures had been made but they had long lost any shape thanks to the twisting of rubble. One of them actually resembled a narrowed eye.

They found no one on the first floor, save for a legion of mice and cockroaches that scurried away panicked as the warped door screeched like a dying soul to let the humans in.

" So?" Rhaegar asked and the echo reverberated against the walls, strangely softened by the layers of cobwebs pillowing them. "I guess you want to talk about what happened today."

Carral Gargalen nodded. "In fact, I want to hear what happened today," he said guardedly. "What could my daughter possibly have done to merit such an insult?"

Rhaegar sighed. So, that was how everyone perceived it? As a slight to Alynna? The thought of offending her had never entered his consideration.

"It wasn't about Alynna at all. I thought that you, of all people, would understand. She's my wife. My future queen. Whatever I do has nothing to do with her. She's already as highly placed as she can be. Crowns of flowers are nothing compared to the one she's going to wear one day."

Wasn't a Dornishman supposed to understand?

His goodfather's expression didn't change. If he wasn't before him so he could see his eyes, Rhaegar would think that Carral had not registered the meaning of his words at all. He just kept standing there, the perfect mariner, tall and muscled, just as stony-faced as before. And then, all of a sudden, there was a white, mind-blowing pain. Leaning against Rhaegar, eyes like burning coals, lips drawn in a snarl, his fingers gripping Rhaegar's like a vice, the head of Dornish fleet snapped, "I can see you'll be just as useless in real battle as you are in the game of thrones, little boy. I advise that you stay away from real fighting and leave it to people who know what they're doing. And remember, if you ever think of humiliating Alynna like this ever again, I will break this girly tiny hand of yours. And then, I'll break the other one, so you won't even be able to take a piss without someone's help. That's what you deserve…"

It wasn't that Rhaegar couldn't push the older man back. It was just that such situations were not part of his training or instincts. He knew arms, not fists and underhanded tactics that Carral Gargalen had learned in the Seven knew what lair. When he could think again, it was too late already. The grasp on his hand was such that he could only see a curtain of red pain.

All of a sudden, Carral released him and pushed him back with derision that suddenly made him come fully alert. This time, it was his time to give the surprise.

Carral didn't raise hand to touch his cheek, although the bruise would be a monster of one. "That's better," he conceded. "Is this what you're going to use on Alynna tonight? Because you might be forced to."

For the first time, Rhaegar realized that his wife's reaction might be one that could not be soothed with words or gestures.

* * *

At the end, it had been his belongings that she had taken her anger out on. His heart ached when he saw the remnants of his harp and he wondered if it could ever be repaired. But he had offended her without wanting to and the insult had turned out to be quite great indeed, so he supposed he could give her this little revenge.

"Are you sleeping?" he asked softly, looking at her closed eyes. He hadn't seen her the whole day – she had pleaded tiredness and not attended the feast – and he just didn't know if she had exhausted all of her rage.

"No," Alynna said and rose in bed.

"Stay down there," Rhaegar said. "Rest."

She rose and threw on a robe. Her hair was flowing down her shoulders, there were bruises of exhaustion around her eyes and lines of tension around her mouth. Her belly was bulging out and for the first time Rhaegar was struck by the fragility of this woman.

"I am sorry," he said softly because he was. He had always seen her as strong, full of life, above being hurt by other's actions, his own included.

"I suppose you are," she said. And then, noticing his face. "Someone I know?"

"Your father," he replied, removing his clothes. "I am truly sorry, Alynna. I just didn't think. I…"

"Oh, I was never in doubt that at the end, you'll find yourself a whore," Alynna said breezily. "I am not the kind that appeals to you."

She was now seated on a chest, watching out for his reaction, so he didn't voice his spontaneous indignation at her description of Lyanna.

"I didn't expect that you'd do it this way, though," Alynna said. The candlelight filled her eyes with tips of spears, hundreds of them. "Not with a child, no matter how much closer to your ideal of looks she is. And she isn't even a whore. That's why I didn't go on with the potion I briefly had in mind."

Rhaegar felt chilled. "Poison?" he asked, his voice rising. She would have dared…?

Alynna waved his suggestion dismissively, looking offended. "Please. I just had in mind something to do about her looks. But after all, what competition she is to me? Perhaps one day, when she grows up. But for now, it would be needless and cruel."

Guilt grasped him, along with horror. To think that he could have become a reason for Lyanna to suffer such a thing? He knew that Alynna wouldn't have done it, though. She was all talk, trying to make him suffer. She knew that he was in love. She had to know. She had loved once, perhaps.

"She's no competition to you, my princess," he confirmed. "Your place in my life is one that she could never reach for."

"So I thought," Alynna said lazily, watching him climb in bed.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"Just a moment," she replied and rose.

He was leaning on his elbow, ready to blow the candle out, when she tugged at the cord of the bedcurtains and her hand covered his mouth the moment the coil fell on top of him and started unknotting in a chorus of hisses. Just a minute later, he was buried under a mass of crawling, slippery, cold bodies, his skin pierced by countless bites. Alynna held him down with the weight of her own body against his chest.

"Remember," she said softly. "Next time, they will be poisonous ones."


	3. Raging Fires

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A Snake in the Mists

 _Raging Fires_

From her place at the window, high above the world, Alynna could see the river of lords and ladies flowing into the great hall. She could only see the basics of their outfits and headdresses but she could easily tell them apart from the servants running around on errands. A group of youngish squires went in, laughing. The wind stirred the leaves of the trees in a song Alynna could not hear. In the sunset, when her thoughts drifted unmonitored, she saw a familiar fair face, a smile that was meant for her alone. She looked down hoping to see him. She was sure that should he pass, she would recognize him despite the distance. She had always done so.

Instead, she saw a group of people stopping at the entrance. One of them looked up, straight for the tower. For a moment, their eyes met and then, as if knowing who the one watching her was, Lyanna Stark turned around and went in.

"Looks like your queen is looking for you," she said.

Rhaegar sighed, close to anger now. "She isn't my queen," he snapped. "By the Seven, Alynna, it was a mistake! I have admitted it. I have told you I was sorry. I am. I didn't think it through. What do you want of me?"

"To undo it," Alynna shot back without turning to look at him. "And since you can, you'll have to deal with your wife, like it or not."

"And your snakes," Rhaegar reminded her. "I didn't give you to the torturers, did I?"

"And endanger your precious Prince Who Was Promised?" Alynna asked and laughed in disgust and disbelief. "You were never in danger and you know it. In another day, you'll be as good as new."

"You humiliated me!"

"As you did me," she reminded him and whirled around. "At least I didn't do it in front of everyone. And you didn't exactly endear yourself with her family or betrothed. We have plans to do, remember? Or do you only see grey eyes now?"

"And what eyes do you see?" he asked back, surprising her with the sharpness of his perception. "Oh don't look at me like this," he went on. "Since we arrived, you've been acting weird and I know the reason. You're in love with someone, Alynna, and I think you're a hypocrite for blaming me for the same thing. No," he amended. "In fact, I know it isn't the same. I know I ought to have been more circumspect."

"Yes, indeed! I don't care who you bed, as long as they aren't daughters of a Great House." Alynna's eyes narrowed. "If you do take her, or a Lannister, or a Tully as your mistress, prepare for the worst, Rhaegar."

She wanted to add that should he do so, she'd feel free to take a lover as well – Errol's face appeared before her instantly – but even as angry as she was, some instinct of self-protection froze the words in her throat. So she only said, "I won't stand for it."

He sighed, staring at the snake bite on his lower arm. "Yes, I think you have shown it already. Could you not forgive me?"

It wasn't as if Alynna had a choice. She looked him in the eye, twisting the ruby on her finger. The swift motion made it glow like blood on her hands. "I suppose I will. But," she added and his smile of relief faded, "I will not forget."

His dejection surprised her. She hadn't realized that her forgiveness or forgetfulness did mean something to him. Perhaps they still had a chance.

* * *

Winter came back with vehemence that stunned the land back into sunken oblivion. The farmers who had been preparing their grains for sowing took them back into their pots; the animals who had been smelling the coming of new grass munched on their old fodder unhappily. The roads, so crowded and in process of a spring repair, turned into mud and then into firm glides of ice that broke at whim, leaving carts and people groaning into the sea of slush.

At Dragonstone, Alynna was struggling with her most difficult pregnancy in eight years, since she had started having her children.

She could not say when she had first felt the change. In the last three years, she had been with child almost constantly, so she had all but forgotten what the feeling of her own body, without another occupant inside was. But that same burden enabled her to tell the difference.

Perhaps it had all started the morning she woke up with this swelling on her face. Or rather, when it did not disappear like oedemas in her other pregnancies had. Instead, it spread, giving her a double chin and puffed up throat, so much that she could no longer put her favourite choker on even after two repairs. Her hands resembled sausages, her belly so huge that she felt the babe's kicks deeply muted. Often at night, she startled wide awake, gasping, and waited breathlessly for the babe to move, show her that it was still alive in the middle of all that water. Headache was a constant given now, as well as the pains high in her belly. The maesters were constantly wandering in and out of her chambers checking on her and assuring her that as far as they could say, the babe was doing fine. Of course, Alynna was happy to hear that but with time, she wanted to scream each time she heard that. The way they said it, they seemed to believe that she should be so soother that she'd stop paying attention to her own discomfort. Her own pain. The fears about her own life, for she felt that the swelling had enveloped her lungs as well. Perhaps she should. But she could no longer kneel before the altar of the Mother – her swollen knees, easily as big as babe heads, could not possibly support her gross weight and even if she somehow managed to kneel, headache would finish her off right there.

Now, Rhaegar only left her side when she could no longer deal with his anxiety on top of her own. He even stopped reading about his prophecy when he was around her – a certain sign that she looked truly terrible, sick enough to scare him. He was attentive to her wishes, careful to hear her unspoken desires. He seemed to feel guilty and as angry as Alynna was, she didn't wish the guilt of thinking that they have harmed their child upon anyone, so she reluctantly started returning his ministrations, although that worsened her own state. She was short-tempered, more than ever before, and taking care of someone else's peace of mind exacted a great effort.

Her mother arrived the day she started seeing spots and Alynna saw the horror on her face that got concealed almost immediately. Her own fear grew.

Then, the seizures started coming. Or at least, the handmaidens said they were seizures. Alynna had no memory of it and Ranna and the maesters would not tell her. She missed Ashara, missed having a confidante and cherished friend like her. She could only hope Ashara was dealing with her own pregnancy better than her as she fought her fear and the rebellion of her body here, in the mists that only make the swelling in her lungs worse.

She thought of Errol. She always did. She wanted him here and at the same time was relieved that he wouldn't see her so misshapen, so ugly. But somehow, she felt sure that he wouldn't have seen her monstrous belly or dough of a face. He would only see her.

When the seizures started coming two, three times a day, Ranna finally decided that this was too much. "Drink this, child," she said and in her eyes, Alynna saw the desperate fear, the terrible uncertainty that her mother did not know what she was giving her, a saving cure or poison. And she realized, deep in her bones, that she had to deliver this babe now, or she'd die before making it to term.

* * *

A few times, she thought she'd die – when, in the middle of labour, she felt the twitching of her facial muscles that preceded the seizures; when her lungs started giving out; when, at opening her eyes, she heard shouts of " She lives, she lives!"; when they showed the newborn to her and she could only see those black spots and then see nothing at all.

"We thought you'd die," her mother told her, with tears in her eyes, the day Alynna knew she'd make it through.

"You _were_ dead," a midwife whispered and a maester hushed her.

"I thought you'd die," Rhaegar told her when finally, they were alone in her chamber and she was in her full presence of mind.

"Would you have mourned me?" she asked tiredly.

"Yes," he said and while she had no reasons to doubt his sincerity, the flush on his cheeks told her that he would have also been a little relieved – and was ashamed of feeling this way. Alynna supposed she couldn't blame him. The last three months had given him plenty of time to think of his young and vigorous wolf girl, so different from his wrought-up wife, with her contorted body and bloated face in which the eyes were no longer visible. The Seven knew that she constantly thought of Errol whom she knew in his not so pleasant traits as well.

She looked down at the prize that stirred and mewled in her arms and her heart melted. He looked so white, his skin translucent, the fluff on his head thick but invisible that if she didn't know, she would have never guessed that he belonged to her. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Is this the problem?"

It clearly was since once she took him to the breast, he went to work with impressive speed. Biting her lips against the pain, she stared forward and thought of a sea that was not the grey waters of Dragonstone but blue and golden, and summer, and her own.

"Aegon," Rhaegar said. "What better name for a king?"

"Are you going to make a song for him?" she asked – an offer for truce. Since she had ruined his silver harp at Harrenhal, he had never played anything in her presence again. From time to time, she had, until her fingers became too swollen, so the harp was staying lonely and forgotten near the window.

"He has a song," he replied. "He is the prince who was promised and his is the song of ice and fire."

Alynna closed her eyes and tried to tune him down. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been. What had she been _thinking_? That he'd care for their son as a _babe_? That he's throw his efforts into teaching him how to be a good king? That he'd finally start seeing them as family and not a selected group of horses gathered together specifically for breeding purposes? When would she stop making this mistake again and again?

"There must be one more," Rhaegar said but whom he was talking to, she couldn't say.

 _How dare you talk about more children to me at a moment like this?_ she screamed in her head but there was only one thing that she could say. "There will be," she said and couldn't resist adding, "More than one."

This, she saw with malicious delight, erased his dreamy smile pretty fast.

* * *

The relief that Alynna met his leaving with had been palpable. The joy of Aegon's birth was still going strong but it was darkened by the slowness of her recovery and the fact that everyone, from Lewyn to the stable boys, seemed to be silently judging him for upsetting the poor woman. The ferocity of their arguments was no secret, although no one knew the topic of them – except, perhaps, for her mother who was giving him strange looks. In the two years they had spent here, Alynna had managed to bind everyone to her, so now Rhaegar felt like someone harassing a woman in her own home. That was probably how everyone viewed him. No one knew what he was trying to do for them, so their children would have a future.

The Sword of the Morning glittered, bright and spear-tipped like Alynna's eyes as he was wandering the sacred hill calling for the ghost to come out.

"Come on," Arthur finally said. "She isn't here. Let's get ready for the night."

Rhaegar looked at him, sitting on this weirwood stump, and all of a sudden saw the entire situation through Alynna's eyes. He had taken his men on a long exhausting journey to consult a strange woman who might or might not be mad and if she was not might or might not be suffering from age-related forgetfulness if she was alive at all on the matter of how he would know which one of the children his lady wife might or might not give him would be the prophesied third head of the dragon that was supposed to save the world from lethal threat via means Rhaegar had no idea about… And they had ended up here, sitting on those old stumps, gnarled and blackened, and probably good for nothing else but firewood after three nights of looking for her and probably scaring her into hiding.

All of a sudden, he wished he was back at Dragonstone. His real life was there. His children were there, as well as their mother who had almost died to give him a son and was ready to try again despite that. Alynna had created a home for him, for them. It was there – Rhaegar could almost see it shimmering in the blue night air. It wasn't the life he would have chosen but it was a good one. Would be if he only chose so.

Strange that such thoughts would come to him at High Heart, of all places. He looked around the calm sleeping land. Even the night birds had hidden away from the cold. Far away, the lights of Harrenhal told the tale of the king who had been hated and despised.

"Come on," Rhaegar said. "Let's get ready to spend the night. Tomorrow, we're heading back."

No one said _It was about time_ but Rhaegar imagined that he had heard it. Perhaps it was just his own voice in his head.

"Wait!" Oswell Whent suddenly spoke. "I think I hear…"

Everyone went silent. The trained warhorses didn't make a sound either.

The echo carried well in the cold night and they could hear it was two riders well before they burst out in the top of the hill. Rhaegar saw the pale outline of a profile beneath the hood and his heart missed a beat.

"My lady," he said.

Lyanna Stark instinctively started to turn her horse away but then stopped. She had recognized him as well. "Your… Your Grace?" she asked uncertainly. "I didn't… I didn't know you'd be here."

"What are you _doing_ here?" Rhaegar asked.

"It's the godswood…" she tried to explain, pointing at the stumps. Her voice caught and while Rhaegar liked to think it was because she was puzzled but happy by their encounter, he noticed the covert looks Lyanna was giving her surroundings. He could say that she was getting more afraid by the moment. Alone, in the dark forest, with those armed man… The man riding with her could hardly make a difference, yet he started to bring his horse before hers. A guard, probably.

"I won't disturb you any longer," Lyanna said. "I beg your leave…"

"I do not give it," Rhaegar heard himself say and her eyes went wide.

" _What?"_

"I can't believe it!" Arthur hissed. "Have you forgotten that you're wed? That your lady wife nearly perished to give you a son? Is this your way of honouring her? _Again?_ "

But Rhaegar didn't care to hear more of his friend's reproaches. He could not let her go. Now he saw everything so clear. Alynna was his princess, his future queen. She'd give him sons and daughters that would ensure the Targaryen line would never rest with two young people and their small son, never ever again. But Lyanna – she would give him the third head of the dragon, the ice to his and Alynna's fire. It was all about balance and Alynna was anything but balanced. Too petty. Too vengeful. Too focused on today and not caring about the future generations. She'd probably impart this attitude to her children. Lyanna, though… she could impart the feeling that sometimes, people needed to just stand for what was right.

And she would give him the love he had not allowed himself to crave for. The fact that it was a son that had been born to Alynna, the realization that Rhaegar himself wasn't the Prince Who Was Promised liberated him in a way that he had never thought possible. After all that he had done in service to a prophecy that was not about him he _deserved_ Lyanna.

Who was backing away, the fear on her face growing stronger.

"My lady," he said. "Let's talk about freedom."

Although the fear did not disappear, she stopped nudging her horse away.

* * *

When they approached the pass, Lyanna was the one who most insisted that they not stop. Rhaegar could not help but feel that she was in a hurry to make things final, override any misgivings she might feel when they emerged from under the blankets to face yet another day of riding away from all the main roads in the winter that was not like the one she knew at Winterfell. _This is no winter_ , she insisted and Rhaegar agreed, was ready to say anything, see anything her way. He couldn't afford to lose her ice and her – well, that he simply _couldn't_ lose.

Sometimes, he had doubts – stupid, unreasonable doubts. What was he thinking, running away to Essos like a brigand? What would he explain to the world when he returned? He had no doubt that Alynna would be furious. His father perhaps even more so. He probably wouldn't even recognize his own children. This was madness, that was what it was. But then Lyanna would look at him and smile, and he'd forget about his misgivings. What misgivings?

He tried not to look at Arthur because the Sword of the Morning's granite face was always quick to remind him. At least Oswell was happy for them, something that was good through the long month of their journey.

"Is that it?" Lyanna asked eagerly.

"It is, my lady," Arthur replied. "The Boneway."

"So we'll pass, and we'll soon see the Sea of Dorne and board a ship… " she started excitedly for like a hundredth time.

Rhaegar gave the mountain a look of deep distrust. It was a thing bred in his bones, he supposed. He was about to enter the only kingdom that had defied the dragons – secretly, like a thief. _Well_ , he thought, _I did steal something. I stole the blue rose._ He smiled.

It took them a day to go through. They entered at dawn and emerged at sunset, all the while being met only by a few animals and screeching birds.

"Is this how Lord Yronwood keeps watch?" Oswell asked dismissively. "I can almost believe he _wants_ Dorne to fall to everyone who wants to take it."

"Perhaps," Arthur replied. "Or perhaps we make just too small a group to be…"

And then, someone yelled, "Who is there?"

"Seven hells," Oswell spat. "Looks like they found us."

"If we hurry up…" Rhaegar said.

"This is of no use," Arthur said calmly. "We've been encircled for a long time."

The resounding echo of hooves came out all of a sudden, startlingly close. From behind the trees, bows appeared.

"So it was you," Rhaegar stated, quite calmly. "You've betrayed me. How could you?"

"How could _you_?" Arthur replied, not looking away.

"Still being the one for great gestures."

Rhaegar turned to the rider who was close enough to them to whisper and be heard this high in the mountain. It was Carral Gargalen.

"Welcome to Dorne," he said, quite calmly given the circumstances. "I guess you're hungry? Such a long travel…"

Rhaegar cut him off. "Spare me your irony. What's the purpose of all of this? Dragging me back to Alynna? That's' ridiculous. She cannot stop me if I want to go away."

Carral's face did not change. "Not at all. Firstly, I wouldn't know where to look for her. She might already be at King's Landing."

To his own surprise, Rhaegar laughed. "What? Why would she go there? She'd rather not leave Dragonstone at all."

"Indeed," his goodfather agreed. "But alas, your father demanded that she and the children go to court to answer for _your_ misdeed."

All of a sudden, Rhaegar didn't find the situation remotely funny. "What?"

"Oh yes." Carral was clearly livid but somehow he managed to keep himself under control. "As soon as you took off on your romantic journey, Brandon Stark rode to King's Landing to demand that you meet him out to die. Unfortunately, he only met the wall of his cell."

"What?" Lyanna yelled.

Carral didn't even look at her. "Rickard Stark is currently riding for King's Landing to answer for his son's crime. And by what our sources tell us, he isn't likely to leave there alive. Alynna has managed to stall until now but soon, she'll have to go there before he has her dragged out by the hair."

Without hesitation, Rhaegar turned his horse around. "I am going back," he said.

No one of the riders encircling them moved.

Carral slowly shook his head. "I am afraid you just don't get it, dear boy," he said. "Leaving alone by no means guarantees your return to King's Landing. And having her in tow," he added, finally giving Lyanna a passing look, "most definitely cannot coexist with the duties you undertook when you took Alynna as your bride. So we'll now accompany you to a lovely old tower. I have made use of it in the past and been very joyful there. Admittedly, I would not recommend it for a longer stay but I am not particularly concerned with your comforts."


	4. Trials

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you're all gold!**

A Snake in the Mists

 _Trials_

"You need to eat something."

"I am not Rhaenys, Mother."

"Then stop behaving like you're two and eat! And lie down!"

That was a conversation Alynna and Ranna had each time Alynna rose from her bed or wasn't quick to reach for the simple meals she had been served. The oedemas had gone down almost entirely, her vision had cleared and she could walk all around the castle without feeling faint but Ranna still hadn't let go of her fear, still insisted that until more time had passed, they couldn't be sure Alynna had made it.

"Aunt, Alynna is truly better," Elia said. She had missed the birth by only a day but she had decided to stay until Alynna recovered, ignoring the summons that had started arriving from Oldtown ever since the news of the Prince's disappearance with the northern girl had spread around. "Soon, she'll have to leave for King's Landing and food will be the least one of her worries…"

Alynna rose and waited. When her head didn't swim, she went to the window, staring out for a raven. Fear and excitement fought in her but in the heavy grey sky weeping slushy snow, no dark wings were beating.

Another kind of bird, however, was gliding over the waves. Alynna squinted at it and looked at Elia. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave before I do," she said. "Baelor has sent a ship to fetch you."

Elia murmured something that was clearly a place underneath where her husband could go but there was no malice in it. She even smiled when she saw the vessel was Baelor's personal ship, although the scene with her husband who had come to fetch his wayward wife in person could be expected not to be a nice one. At least now the three of them would have the chance to convince him that the game they were about to start – and wanted him to join – was one they could win.

* * *

"Let's make this clear." Baelor Hightower's voice was very soft and very disbelieving. "You want me to take part in a conspiracy against the crown?"

Elia smiled at him as she would to a slow-witted scholar. "A year ago, you were quite ready to do so, weren't you?"

"It was different!" he protested.

"Indeed it was. Then, there was still a choice not to do anything and Rhaegar made it." Elia raised her goblet in a small toast of irony to the missing Prince. "He didn't accord us this luxury."

"Keep your voice down!" Baelor warned although she was whispering anyway, barely audible through the crackle of the fire in the huge fireplace of black marble.

"You know you're mad, don't you?"

She shrugged and they kept eating their heron in honey. There were no servants attending them during the meal and silent forms only appeared from time to time to take the plates away and bring new ones. Baelor approved.

"I now want to take you back home. It's high time you assume your main duties as practically lady of Oldtown and the hand ruling our household and our children…"

Fortunately, he stopped himself before adding that it was high time she stopped undertaking activities that were unnatural for a woman. Most times, he really valued her political mind and if he had wished for a wife whose greatest concern would be to best match curtains and rugs, he really should have wed anyone _but_ the daughter of the Princess of Dorne.

Elia stopped eating. "I think that getting rid of the crowned madman is the best way to assure our children's wellbeing," she said softly. "Everyone's wellbeing, actually. Do you not want to help?"

Baelor hesitated. He couldn't tell right now. He just wanted Elia to bow out of this but she wouldn't, would she? At the same time, someone had to do something, with Aerys getting worse and Rhaegar leaving it all behind for a pretty face. Baelor was genuinely curious about the girl. She needed to be a second Shiera Seastar, at least, to justify such a storm.

His hesitance won him disapproving looks from the three women. That didn't help his thinking at all. He rose, made a stiff bow and excused himself. No one tried to make him stay.

"Getting ready for your nice couch?" Lewyn Martell asked as soon as Baelor left the small dining hall.

The young man glared at him. "Were you eavesdropping?"

Martell shrugged it off. "I was making sure that no one else was," he said. "So?"

Baelor blushed. "How did you know?"

Elia's uncle laughed. "She is her mother's daughter and Alric has spent time in the doghouse more than once when he got my sister angry enough." For a moment, his face clouded over and closed. The Princess' death was still a fresh wound. "And you merited such treatment tonight, I must say."

Baelor gaped at him, looking for telltale signs that Martell was joking but the torchlight didn't reveal any. He looked quickly around. Fortunately, there was no one else in sight in the broad long hallway. "You're a Kingsguard!"

Lewyn nodded gravely, not liking the reality of what they were doing at all. "For a long time, I thought so, yes. But at the end, it came down to what choices I could live up with. I didn't sign my soul over when I took the white. And Aerys and Rhaegar knew what they were getting and what they promised and failed to give in return." He squared his shoulders. "Well, I guess I'll now go and keep conspiring, shitting on my honour. You keep sleeping comfortably on your couch, dear nephew."

He went in, leaving Baelor to stare after him. All the tales of Dornish lies and treachery came rushing back but it took Baelor little effort to chase them away. After being married to a Dornishwoman for eight years, he had come to see them somewhat differently. And they were right. With the new surprises Aerys and Rhaegar kept serving them every day, there could be no safety, no peace of mind. Something needed to be done, couch or no couch.

Inside, Lewyn came to the table and smiled at seeing that Alynna had almost cleared her plate. She would live. She would thrive. Now, they needed her healthy more than ever.

Elia smiled at the sight of him. "I take it you saw Baelor on his way out?" she asked.

"I wished him a good sleep," he said and chuckled at her flush. But he soon became serious, going around the table to Alynna.

She saw the small piece of parchment in his hand with the cockatrice seal and blanched. "Well," she breathed, "it came. Finally!"

Lewyn had opened and read it. She didn't mind.

"We're leaving for King's Landing first thing tomorrow," she said. Fear and relief fought a fierce battle within her and she couldn't say which one was winning. On one hand, they needed to arrive at King's Landing before Lord Stark and that scared her - she didn't know what they'd see, how they'd be met, if their plans would succeed; on the other, Rhaegar could have changed his mind and plans and upset all their plans without offering anything remotely good in exchange and it hadn't happened. Rhaegar! Her hands clenched in fists but she refused to think of him and the whore he had tossed her aside for. There was no time. She rose and said her goodbyes, headed for her children's rooms and wishing that she could see her other children as well, just in case. Again, her mind went to the parchment and the single word written on it. _Done._

There was no other message. Nothing else on the parchment.

* * *

In midday, the Red Keep was a beautiful place, at least those parts of it that Alynna was acquainted with. Sunlight streamed through high windows, statues and arches brought in elegance and frace. Inside, there were few things carved in red. White marble was the style and it made the galleries and reception halls look spacious, yet Alynna felt as if she was on her way to the black cells. In her arms, Aegon slept soundly, recently fed and oblivious to her discomfort, and she fought the searing urge to turn back and run.

"Are you feeling unwell, Your Grace?"

Alynna's answer was smooth and immediate, "No, my lord. No one is ever unwell for the King's presence."

The eunuch gave her a coy look through his downcast eyes. "Of course, Princess."

Doors were opened ajar and curious eyes stared. Alynna could feel them on her, the Prince's abandoned wife, and the babe in her arms. She knew some of the speculations spreading about – that Rhaegar had run away because the maesters had told him that she'd forever stay bloated and ungainly, balls of flesh topping each other. That he had said he wanted to share a woman's bed, not climb mountains in his efforts. That the heir he had expected of her had turned out to be deformed as had happened to some queens of old. That he'd soon dispatch the men of an Essosi sellsword company to evict her and the children from his castle before his new bride entered in triumph. Those had been rumoured well before Rhaegar's capture and were enough to make her wish her husband was near so she could shoot an arrow straight into him! After letting some snake poison show its effects first.

She wondered how many of the rumours had originated from the man walking next to her. Lord Varys was a smart and strong adversary. She wanted to have him on her side but she couldn't see a way to achieve it.

They took the last turn and suddenly, all too fast, the footman was bowing and opening the double doors, and Alynna was walking among two rows of courtiers towards the beast of the belly.

The members of the Small Council stood close to the Iron Throne, of course. Alynna felt their calculating eyes sliding all over her but she only cared about one. Lucerys Velaryon, the Master of Ships, looked uncomfortable and was quick to look away.

Two more steps. Then another two, as slow as possible, and she was sinking into a curtsey before the dais.

"So you've finally dared show your face here."

He hadn't bidden her to rise, so Alynna stayed in the uncomfortable pose of the curtsey, head bowed and back straight.

"Where is he?"

Alynna swallowed. For a moment, she wanted to just say the truth, tell him where to find his fickle son and unleash his anger upon him as Rhaegar deserved. She commanded herself not to. "I don't know, Your Grace."

Aerys snorted. "You don't know? You and your Dornishmen have been supporting him against his father ever since you came here, to our great woe. What is his plan? To keep the girl as a hostage to turn my leal bannermen against me?"

Horror choked her. If she didn't know Rhaegar, if she didn't know that the girl had left with him on her own will, that was what she might have thought as well. Aerys wasn't stupid. Just mad.

"I don't know where he is, Your Grace. But I know he isn't planning anything against you. He's just smitten with the girl and stole her away. He isn't trying to turn her family…"

Above her, a heavy object hit the ground but of course, etiquette didn't let her to raise her head and see what it was. "Smitten with her?" Aerys roared. "He isn't this blind. She isn't even beautiful. It's all part of your plan, giving her that laurel, using her against me… _Where is he?"_

 _In Dorne!_ " "I don't know."

"He was spotted boarding a ship to Braavos! Is he negotiating with the Iron Bank and the sellsword companies to steal my throne?"

"No!"

Her neck was aching. She couldn't keep her back straight anymore, so she relaxed it a little and focused on Aegon, terrified that her arms would give up and she'd drop him.

"You!" Aerys screamed. "You Dornish snake. You've turned my son against me. Against his father. For this, you will burn."

"Your Grace, I swear I didn't do anything! And Rhaegar isn't conspiring against you!"

"Liar!"

By the change in the location she heard his voice from, she guessed he had jumped to his feet in rage.

Then, she heard him going down the stairs. He grabbed her chin and lifted her head so roughly that she bit her tongue. And then, the precarious balance of her uncomfortable position upset, she fell down on her side, only managing to lift Aegon so he fell on top of her instead of the marble.

Darkness came.

* * *

"A trial by combat?" Alynna asked, suspicion immediately arising. "And the King agreed?"

It was too… ordinary, too sane.

"Tomorrow," Lewyn said. "Everyone will be present – the Small Council, the High Septon, the court… and you."

"Never!"

After hitting her head on the marble floor, Alynna had been suffering from headaches again. She was really too feeble and didn't want to do anything that might slow her recovery. And she didn't want to give the court fodder for gossip again. Being the wife Rhaegar had run from had been bad enough even without collapsing so humiliatingly in Aerys' feet with everyone watching.

"Oh yes, you should." There was concern in her mother's eyes that jolted Alynna into new level of scared. "I _must_ be there."

* * *

The two black-clad men stepped away and examined their work. Alynna bit her hand not to scream. The red spot on her cheek was still burning bright, the answer to her pleas for mercy when she, along with everyone else, had been told who House Targaryen's champion was.

"No!" Brandon Stark yelled and started struggling in his bonds. _Stop it_ , Alynna thought _. Stop it, or you'll strangle yourself trying to reach that sword._ And then, in a sea of horror drowning her, she realized that this was what Aerys wanted.

"No!" Ranna whispered urgently. "Don't do a thing. The fire won't catch."

Alynna stared at her and thought she had gone mad. The fire was already burning, licking Rickard Stark's armour!

And then, it went down. Just like this. Brandon Stark stopped struggling and looked at his father in wonder. The great hall breathed with the breath hundreds of watchers released. Lord Stark looked down at his own feet where the ash was smoking as if watered down abundantly.

The pyromancers hurried again to build it – and this time it only flickered.

"Rossart!" Aerys roared.

Alynna drew her skirts closer to her when the man rushed past to inspect the fire. He rose from his crouch and shook his head helplessly. There was no reason for the fire not to catch and yet it didn't.

 _The Seven's justice_ and _Innocent_ filled the room, first in whisper, and then in increasingly louder, awed voices. Alynna turned to her mother, amazed. "How did you know…"

Ranna didn't even look at her. Eyes intent on Stark and the fire, lips drawn back, face contorted in a scream that she would not release, she looked as if she was the one burning. On her forehead, a ruby that Alynna had never seen before glowed.

She was the one putting the fire down. Somehow, she was. The thought that Ranna was even able to subdue fire to her will was enough to make Alynna momentarily recoil from her own mother, although Ranna was not doing anything to anyone.

Not a flicker. Anything. Hesitantly, unsure if she should even do this much, Alynna touched Ranna's hand. It was incredibly hot.

This had to end.

"The Seven spoke!" Alynna cried out, rising from her seat. "This man and his son aren't guilty of anything. This was the voice of the Seven. The Seven have spoken!"

If she had expected the High Septon to take part, she was bitterly disappointed. The man just looked fearfully at Aerys. But all around, the people started muttering and that was enough to drive Aerys into a new fit of madness. He shot to his feet, descended the dais and headed straight for Alynna, giving her a slap in the face that made her head snap back. Then, he retreated in fury, cloak billowing behind him.

Rossart ran to catch up with him, only stopping to snap at Ranna, "I know you did it. I won't let it pass…"

The whirlwind of events sucked everything in their hiss. Someone headed to take the chains from Rickard Stark's hands as someone else was releasing Brandon. With a sigh of relief and pain that Alynna never wanted to hear again, her mother slumped from her seat unconscious. The High Septon started murmuring about miracles and someone snapped at him to clear out.

Alynna knelt at her mother's side, trying to bring her back to consciousness. Ranna was burning hot and where the now dull ruby had been, a real burning was smoking.

Some people were headed for the door while others stayed, wanting to talk. Heavy footsteps stopped right next to Alynna and when she looked up, she met grey eyes watching her with intensity that further disrupted her. "What's wrong with her?" Lord Stark asked. No one had even thought of stopping him when he had made his way to them.

"I think she's been burnt…"

"Take her," Rickard commanded his son who had just come close.

Without saying anything, Brandon leaned over, took Ranna in his arms and headed out of the hall.

"What happened?" he asked, looking from the unconscious woman to his father and back. "You weren't burnt but she is…"

"Not here," Rickard said. "We must go at some place that is more secure and then perhaps someone is going to tell me what's going on."

 _It won't be me_ , Alynna thought. They all would have to wait until her mother was well enough to talk. And she needed to act as soon as possible. The alchemist seemed to know that her mother had had a part in thwarting Aerys' plan and Alynna had attracted further notice to herself by begging for the Starks and then announcing that the Seven's will was with them. If Aerys hadn't been convinced that they were all jointly plotting against him, now he'd be.

In her mind's eye, she saw that rock at Salt Shore again. A few times, she had gone with the boys for the long and dangerous jump. Each time, she had been scared. Every single time. "Jump," she had ordered herself. And she had jumped headfirst.

* * *

This night, Alynna didn't go to bed at all. She had taken the children in her bedchamber and Ranna placed in her own bed. Everyone else had long been sent away.

She tried to sit down, save her strength but after a minute of resting in a chair, anxiety propelled her to her feet again. She went to the window and stared at the city sleeping in her feet. She wished her chambers overlooked the sea, although she, of course, would not recognize one ship against many.

Had they found the passage? Had they gone through it already? Had someone heard the commotion? What if Aerys had positioned guards in his very bedchamber?

Finally, a little after midnight, someone knocked at her door. She sprang to her feet and went to open it herself, then stepped back to let the newcomer inside.

Under other circumstances, she would have embraced Oberyn first and talk later. Now, she only looked at him, the silent question unspoken.

"The time has come, Princess," he said, bowing deeply. Behind him, Ser Gunthor Hightower did the same.

"Come with me, my lady," he said. "The officers at the Dragon Gate are waiting."

Alynna's knees went weak. That was the moment. If she did it, there would be no turning back. But there hadn't been one since the moment their men had emerged into Aerys' bedchamber and grabbed him.

"Viserys?" she asked.

"There are guards at his door already. Our people will be with him constantly. The spider won't have a chance."

"I don't want him hurt," Alynna warned.

Oberyn didn't exactly told her that she was stupid but if they had the time, he might have. No one wanted the child hurt. No one would harm him.

Alynna went to the bed and hating herself, woke her mother up. "Come on," she said. "We're leaving."

She had had both of them changed into riding outfits as soon as she had sent her handmaidens away.

"What happened?" Oberyn asked, not understanding why his aunt was in this state.

Alynna wrapped Rhaenys in a cloak, told her to be quiet, and handed her to Melina who had come with her first to the Tor, then at Dragonstone, and now to King's Landing. Then, she took Aegon and led the way out.


	5. An Appeal

**Thanks to everyone for sticking up with me! We've almost made it to the end, I promise.**

A Snake in the Mists

An Appeal

They rode in darkness, for even a single torch could give them away and the stars were hidden behind heavy clouds. It was the night of the dark moon – a time of dark designs, a time of ill intentions and black enchantments. It had been a night like this, when, three moons ago, Alynna had learned of Rhaegar's flight and gone wild with rage. Her screams had woken the entire castle up, might have even reached the volcano that had once nurtured the dragons to its bosom.

No one talked and Alynna was pleased that it was so. Her mind's eye was turned inwardly, to someone dear to her heart, someone who was no longer there. Arianne Martell, Princess of Dorne, small in stature and tall in resolve. Not a warrior by any means, for she could only throw her dagger. Her consort had fought her battles for her. But Alynna's husband was not even willing to lead his own battles, let alone theirs, hers. And yet, even with Alric Gargalen's skills at arms and undisputable talents in military strategies, even with his powerful charm, there had been times when only Arianne had been able to do what needed to be done with their men-at-arms. _Do not seek explanations, for you won't find them,_ Alynna thought she heard her aunt say. _Just accept that it is so. That's the way of the world._

 _Stay with me_ , Alynna pleaded and Arianne smiled, staying at her niece's shoulder as Alynna rummaged through her memories of Sunspear and the Water Gardens, and Salt Shore and tried to bring herself to believe that she was doing the right thing the right way.

Aegon was sleeping soundly, lulled by the gallop and not at all disturbed by the thunder of hooves. Alynna tried to feel the warmth of him but of course, she couldn't, not through the thick cloaks they were both wrapped snuggly in.

This late, past midnight, brigands and thieves were almost the only ones roaming the streets of the great city and even they had the common sense to draw back from the way of the mounted group, the dark obscure silhouettes that, to some of them, looked like something the Stranger had sent their way to lead them to their just punishment beyond the grave.

Finally, the Dragon Gate appeared in view, high above their heads. Alynna had been here before and felt some foolish, despicable relief that darkness hid the open mouth of the huge statue from her view. She was already feeling as if she was walking straight into the dragon's mouth.

Here and there in the barracks, a random light flickered.

"I see them," Gunthor Hightower said and was about to take Alynna's sand steed but reconsidered and only pointed to where a group of men was waiting.

Alynna stopped in front of them and her heart made a leap at the sight of a face, fair and familiar, in the dark. Arthur! She told herself that it was a good sign.

Her heart in her throat, she raised the bundle in her arms high. He had just awoken.

Ser Jarmen Buckwell, the commander of the City Watch, bowed as low as his armour would let him. "Your Grace," he said. "Thank you for bringing the King to us."

Through the pounding of her chest, Alynna smiled. "It was only right to present my son to you as I did my daughter."

How Rhaegar had disapproved! A babe had no business in military quarters, he had insisted. It was not good for her health. The men would only scare her. But Alynna had won this argument. At the time, she had been concerned about Rhaegar's ability to win loyalty and keep it. Being cheered for by the crowd was one thing but as nice as it was, it would do nothing for his cause. He had played the game of thrones with the lords of the realm and Alynna had done her best to reach for the rank and file of the men-at-arms in his father's seat of power on his behalf.

Not anymore.

"Is it over?" Ser Jarmen asked and looked behind her, probably trying to see Prince Lewyn among her companions – Lewyn who had been one of the contacts between her and the gold cloaks.

"Ser Lewyn remained in the Red Keep to see to our cause there," Alynna said and saw how he seemed to relax a little, although she couldn't be sure. "And yes, it's over."

He swept another bow. "Then come, my lady. Let's rouse the men from their sleep."

It took some time to get the men in the barracks woken, alert, and ready. Alynna and her party spent it in Ser Jarmen's own apartment – three chambers furnished comfortably but by no means lavishly. Alynna didn't reject the cup of tea she was offered and forced Rhaenys to drink some as well. Then, she poured herself another cup, not to drink it but try and get some warmth for her frozen fingers wrapped around it.

Ser Gunthor stood near the wall, his eyes fixed on the door and his sword drawn.

Gradually, a great noise arose – dragging feet, clamouring weapons, ringing voices. Alynna released the cup but didn't rise.

Ser Jarmen entered the chamber and bowed his head. "Everything is ready, Your Grace," he said.

Alynna rose and took Aegon. Melina followed with Rhaenys.

"Good luck," Ranna said and smiled.

At the door, fifteen Dornishmen formed a semi-circle around them. Ser Gunthor walked before her, his eyes running in all directions.

Just a staircase and a hall, and then a door was opened and she stepped out on the balcony where the Commander of the City Watch addressed his men from.

A sea, a sea of faces that seemed unattached to any bodies in the darkness. Alynna was actually surprised that it was still dark. Had so little time passed? Dirks and spears glittered through and here and there. For some reason, the iron of the cudgels caught the faint flickering of the stars much better.

Alynna drew a deep breath. "Men of the City Watch!" she cried out, forcing the words through her tight throat. She now had to sound passionate, yet without womanly hysterics. Determined but in need of protection as well. And by the Seven, she should not forget whom she was addressing. It was not the Small Council here, or Princess Arianne's sessions with her lords and ladies at which the truly important part should be dug out beneath layers of empty words. "Men of the City Watch!" she repeated. "It is with a heavy heart that I must address you. For many a year, King Aerys has been a good and just ruler. A true protector of the realm. He gave us peace and prosperity. Safe roads. The chance to watch our children grow. But alas, he is no longer of hale mind. He has turned into a grave danger to justice and faith in the Seven Kingdom – indeed, to people's very lives! When a great lord's son demanded justice for the grave offense the King's son committed against his House, the King answered with taking innocent lives to shield the perpetrators; when the Lord of the North demanded a trial by combat as was his right, the King tried to make a mockery of the holy ritual in order to murder him. And the Seven spoke against it!"

She paused for effect and was pleased to hear the affirmative murmur. The news of the trial had flown all around King's Landing before night had drawn near, eliciting murmurs of awe and fear that the King had lost the Seven's favour, and the realm with him.

"He's dangerous even to those close to him. Our gracious queen, his own wife and sister, is a constant subject of his ire. And look what he did to me!" Alynna dramatically showed the bruise on her cheek that very few were close enough to see. "He pushed me on the marble floor as I was holding Prince Aegon! Only by the mercy of the Mother did not his own grandson's blood spatter the floor before the Iron Throne."

She paused again. "For the good of the Kingdom and his own good, King Aerys should be relieved by the burden of power. I appeal to you to not let ill-intentioned people use his state of mind to their own benefit."

Again, a pause. The yard of the barrack glimmered with the eyes of the thousands of men gathered there listening to her in rapture. Unbidden, the thought of Errol invaded her mind. Would he have been this enraptured? He had never needed grand speeches to know when she was in need and leap to her defense.

"But where is he who, most of all, should assume the duty to relieve both King and realm from this intolerable situation? Where is he who should assume the title of Protector of the Realm? How does he protect anything? He's given up on all his responsibilities for a woman!"

She stopped and swallowed. She was in dire need of something to drink but she couldn't. Not now.

"That's true," Arthur said grimly. He had appeared out of nowhere and now stood next to her, his white cloak gleaming. "I was there. I saw it with my very eyes."

"When I was chosen to be Prince Rhaegar's bride, that cost me a lot. I had recently buried my husband; I had to leave my children behind, one of them a newborn at the breast. But I did my duty; I gave the Prince two children, hale and hearty, to secure the line of the dragons. I kept his household; I made a home for him where he could rest after his burdens. I was naught but a loyal wife – and how did he repay me? He left without a word, left me and my children for another woman, turned his back to his duties to the realm he was supposed to protect. Rumour has it that he's run away to Essos. He left me and my children to brave the storm of the King's discontent when we were the ones who were wronged! People say that he'll return to drive me and his own son and daughter away from the home I made for him. Men of the City Watch, I beg for your powerful protection. Defend me and my children from the evil intentions of the King and Prince! Dispense justice, for we'll see none of it from them. You already know my daughter, for I gave her to you when we first came to King's Landing with her; I now give you my son. It's in their name that I beg your arms!"

She lifted Aegon high in the air and a cheer shook the yard. By the looks of the men surrounding her, she knew that she had succeeded. She had already won most of the commanders of the gold cloak; now the rank and file roared their approval as well, so thunderously that Rhaenys clung to Melina and Aegon woke up but didn't cry. "Justice! Justice! Aegon and Alynna!"

Far away, in the sea, the Hightower fleet appeared to block any attempt of the royal ships to carry anyone away, should someone manage to escape the Red Keep.

"Come on," Ser Jarmen said. "Let's go."

Alynna headed for her horse. The gold cloaks did the same.

* * *

"So? Was that it? And if it was, why was there any need of Harrenhall and all those years of plotting? When it could be achieved in less than a day?"

Those weren't questions that Rickard Stark hadn't asked himself. But he had long ago become reconciled with the idea that some things could only become clear in the aftermath. At his son's age, he had expected immediate clarity as well and railed against time wasted and lives lost as well.

"I suggest that you ask Rhaegar or his lady wife," he said. "I cannot give you the answer."

"I might ask her indeed!"

This time, Rickard could not keep the anger out of his voice. "I'd rather than you don't. You did volunteer your contribution to our relationship to the Iron Throne and it was more than enough!"

Brandon flushed and reached for his goblet. Although the Dornish woman kept them under guard, her hospitality was better than Aerys', so they lacked for nothing. The sound of the copper goblet crashing against the wall would have been so delightful… but his father was right. And if Brandon did throw it, that would only confirm that he was the hotheaded fool Rickard considered him to be.

"It was a mistake. Are you happy now? I made a mistake!"

"A very costly one!"

"I know, I know!"

It wasn't likely that he'd forget. So many friends, so many of his father's bannermen…

"And it was all for nothing. Rhaegar still has her, damn him! When I think of what he might be doing to her right now…"

Now, his father's voice was old and tired, so very tired. "Brandon, I know you're a devoted brother but it's time that you stop fooling yourself. Our Lyanna did go with him on her own will. A man with a wife and two children, one of them a newborn babe." He sighed. "He wouldn't need to force himself upon her. He's already charmed her mind and made her betray us."

He couldn't say which thought hurt more deeply – that Lyanna had conducted herself like a whore or that she had behaved like a _stupid_ whore. What could Rhaegar Targaryen offer her? Dishonoured, deprived of any chance of a worthy match, Lyanna would have to spend her life fighting to keep his interest, fighting the other women who would no doubt come when his interest in her faded. Going to Essos, of all places! His concern about her was as strong as it had been the day he had learned about her disappearance but if she could appear before him right now, he'd gladly bent her over his knee and deliver a good spanking. He had never done so, had pretended that he didn't see her disobedience, believing that she'd grow her wild side eventually. He was to blame as well.

"She might have changed her mind…"

"And Aerys might have become sane!" Finally, Rickard had had too much. He glared at his son, thought about his daughter, and thought, quite unflatteringly, that he had done the world no service with his upbringing of those two. The future Lord of Winterfell! The supposed Lady of the Stormlands! Lyanna was probably somewhere far away, clinging to her illusions as adamantly as Brandon was clinging to his. Rickard feared that she might end up the way Brandon had almost ended up. He still had no idea _why_ they had survived.

The next reprimand he was about to deliver went unspoken because someone knocked at the door. Almost immediately, they were led to converse with the Princess of Dragonstone who had asked for their presence. Judging by the huge amount of Dornishmen and men of the Reach – at least five in every little hallway, - Rickard really wasn't keen on finding out what she would have done if they had declined.

Somewhat to his surprise, they were led not to the throne room but a solar that was big and majestic but unmistakably female, and touched by Dorne – the pillows meant for sitting, the exotic scents, the bright flowers all around. Star kisses, some of them were called. Lyarra had tried to make them bloom in Winterfell. She had failed, of course.

"My lords," the mistress of the room greeted them. She was seated behind a low table with a few goblets and a piece of string before her. Her mother was sitting on a couch, looking unhealthy but better than the day before. Arthur Dayne closed the door behind the newcomers and returned to his duty guarding it. The three men with the Dornish woman nodded in greeting.

Rickard bowed his head and Brandon followed.

"Please take seats," Alynna Gargalen invited and they did so. With her own hands, she poured them some wine and Rickard immediately thought of poison. She was Dornish, after all, this rebel princess. But no, it was stupid of him. If she had wanted them dead, she would have left the fire do the deed.

"How am I to address you now?" Rickard asked bluntly, albeit not disrespectfully, and she smiled.

"Princess or Your Grace will suffice. As of today, I am the official regent of my son who was anointed by the High Septon."

"Did you take the oath on his behalf?"

"I did."

Silence descended upon the room. In the candlelight, there was nothing of the supposed deformity of face and frame that the last birth had left the woman with, causing her husband to run away from her in disgust. She was almost a beauty. But her eyes were harsh, despite her attempts to look calm. Rickard supposed he couldn't blame her. He just geared himself for a fight. She wanted something of him and he'd get to know what it was.

"I think we have many things to talk about," he said. His eyes briefly wandered to the woman who had stopped the fire and then returned to her daughter, Alynna of the fierce eyes.

"I agree," she said. "So, let's start."


	6. Proceedings

**A chapter closer to the end! Thanks for staying around!**

A Snake in the Mists

 _Proceedings_

"We might start by telling me the names of your… advisors?" Rickard suggested.

The woman looked at them as if she had forgotten about their presence. Suddenly and ridiculously, Rickard was reminded of Maege Mormont. Not the looks or the style – in those, the two women were as different as Sothoros and Essos. No, it was something in the expression but Rickard couldn't put his finger on it.

"That's Lord Mikkel Gargalen," Alynna said. "My uncle."

The man looked at them and for the first time, they saw his face and recoiled in horror. His cheeks were not as gaunt, his face did not twitch in constant nervous ticks, his nails were short and clean, and his eyes were level and unrevealing, yet for all of that the similarity was strikingly obvious _. He must be at least twenty years older than Aerys_ , Rickard though, _yet it looks as if there are no more than five years between them._ That was how aged the King – the former king now? – looked – had looked? Silver hair, refined facial lines, deep purple eyes. Really, it was the same – but Lord Gargalen had the light of sound reasoning while Aerys had been descending into darkness for years.

"My brother Alor," she went on. "And this is Prince Oberyn Martell, my cousin."

Rickard wasn't sure that he'd be able to tell them apart if he happened to meet them separately – they looked so much like each other, and the same age at that. Staring up at Brandon dislike for dislike. Rickard really wished that the Princess hadn't invited them for this meeting. Three hotheads around a table was not the way to negotiate.

"And of course," Alynna went on, looking at the woman who had just entered through a side door, ""this is my cousin Elia Hightower."

"Would you like some wine?" Elia asked politely and without waiting for reply, starting filling the goblets, as if it was a social gathering.

"What happened in the throne room?" Rickard asked, needing to know the sort of people he was dealing with. The Gargalen woman had managed to delay the moment of truth by claiming that she had no idea either but with her mother awake, the charade could not go on for much longer.

Everyone turned to look at Ranna; surprised, Rickard saw the wonder in their eyes. Perhaps Alynna Gargalen _hadn't_ known, indeed. It all seemed like a new thing to them.

Lady Ranna's voice was soft and toneless. "Before I wed, I served the Lord of Light in Essos. He still sends me visions in the fire from time to time. This time, he revealed me something that I had seen before, many years ago."

"He showed you what the King would do?" Rickard didn't believe her for a moment. Beholden to her or not, there were only so many lies that he could take.

"No."

She stared in the space before her. Across the room, the fire suddenly went low, as if it, too, was deep in thought along with her.

"It happened twenty years ago, or so," the woman finally said. The shadows dancing on her face made her both beautiful and terrifying. "My husband had left recently with his ship and that night, I had moved Alor into Alynna's room. They both had a summer chill and it was easier for me to take care of them when they were together. The fever had finally gone down, so I removed the cold cloths and went to warm my hands to the fire. And then, I saw…" She paused. "It was a dark forest, a frightening forest. So old and powerful. The trees that were not trees. The black pool. And the woman came out of it. She was heavy with child and she prayed to the gods for a son to avenge her. I recognized her. I had seen her in Sunspear…"

Suddenly, Rickard abandoned his habit of always making a list of everyone's reaction. He knew what she was talking about. "She wouldn't have done this," he said, his mouth dry.

"Who?" Brandon asked and Rickard gestured at him to stay put. He needed to think. Somewhat to his surprise, he found out that he wasn't surprised. At the time of their wedding, Lyarra had refused to believe that he was taking her to wife in order to heal the family rift. For years, she had insisted that he had robbed her of her birthright. And as impetuous as she had been then, she would have made this prayer without thinking that the gods might answer it in a way she'd never want. He reached for his goblet because the burning in his throat was too great.

"What happened last night?" he finally asked. "How did you succeed?"

"I was desperate," Alynna Gargalen said simply. "The summons to come here arrived only two days after I learned of the Prince's disappearance. And the meaning was clear. I was to answer for his actions." She shrugged. "My experience with the King didn't reassure me that I'd get a fair hearing. So I took measures." She smiled a little. "Knowing the secret passages and tunnels is a good thing, as Lord Varys would confirm."

The notorious eunuch. Looking at her, it was clear that she believed everything that was said about him.

"And did you know them?"

"No," she said dryly. "But my uncle does."

Rickard looked at the man who didn't smile. Nothing about his face showed any satisfaction. Anything. He simply nodded.

"Is the King alive?"

"The former King, you mean," the woman corrected. "He's well cared for. Just being transported to a safer place."

"And your husband?"

That was a dangerous question but one that Rickard felt he needed to ask.

Her face turned to cold dark marble. Her eyes looked dead."He was last seen boarding a ship to Essos. And he wasn't alone."

He parried this attempt to shift the balance. "He can return any moment now."

"It'll be too late."

"You'll fight him?"

In her eyes, the old fire returned. "I will fight for my children. For my honour. I don't know if he intends to replace me with your daughter or push my children out of the succession for hers but he won't have the chance. My son is the King and I am the regent. I won't let anyone stand on the way of this."

For a moment, a sea of possibilities flooded Rickard's mind. So many chances! Rhaegar and this rash, impetuous daughter of his had squandered so many opportunities in vain. Even if they returned now, there would be few people who'd support them against the wronged wife who was surely securing the power even as they spoke.

"I would like to see him try," her brother murmured.

Alynna Gargalen looked at him and smiled. "If he ever does, you have my permission to break his nose," she said. "I know you want to."

 _Not kill him,_ Rickard noticed. _Interesting._ He had thought her stronger than this.

"Won't you kill him?" Brandon inquired. "Can I, then?"

Rickard almost shook his head in despair. He had hoped that their near death had changed Brandon for the better but it seemed he had reckoned without his host.

"Just forget about it," Alor Gargalen warned. "Rhaegar Targaryen is mine."

"No, he isn't!" his sister snapped. "I don't need anyone killing Rhaegar to make him regret even showing his face to me again if it ever happens."

It sounded so threateningly that for a moment, Rickard truly wished for the Prince to return to her.

Of course, that would mean that she'd face Lyanna as well… Women like this one, and with power like the one she apparently held now, tore good and naïve girls like Lyanna from limb to limb without thinking twice if they felt that they had been offended. And Lyanna truly had offended her.

"So, you will fight him?" he asked again, just to be sure. "On a battlefield?"

He could only welcome her decision to make the man who had dishonoured his daughter pay. But he felt uncomfortable with the rebel princess, the faithless wife. He could only expect the same to be true for the other lords in Westeros.

She nodded curtly. "If it comes to this, I will."

He hesitated. "I only ask you to show a young girl the nobility of character you and your lady mother showed us, Your Grace," he said. "If it ever happens that my daughter comes within your reach…"

Brandon shot to his feet. "That's rich!" he exploded. "Her whoreson of a husband turns the head of an innocent girl and we're the ones who should grovel to her now, as if we owe her something?"

"An innocent girl?" Alor Gargalen cut in, his sneer evident. "By your own man's account, the girl in question doesn't know what innocence is. And you can stop playing the wronged party, not here and not to us. Shall we remember whose sister it was who took the road with a man she barely knew, a man who had spoken his vows with another woman, the mother of his newborn heir, as soon as he told her a few words the stupid girl wanted to hear? Not mine, Stark. Not mine. So if I were you, I would have kept my fucking mouth closed after it almost got me killed once!"

"Do you really want to talk about morals? Do you, Dornishman?"

Alor made a quick step forward and Mikkel Gargalen stepped between him and Brandon without hesitation, with the air of someone who made it a habit to keep young and enraged men away from each other. "That's enough!" he said sharply. "That's enough, Alor, and the same holds true for you as well, Stark. We aren't here to throw accusations. I won't suffer that Alynna be insulted but Lady Lyanna isn't here to defend herself, so I find the whole thing an exercise in futility. Alynna, I take it that you won't try to harm the girl even if the opportunity presents itself?"

"I won't," she said reluctantly. "It's the Prince that I bear most grievances with. It isn't that I think her as blameless as Lord Brandon does but at the end, it was the Prince who wronged me more grievously. As long as she doesn't try to infringe on me and mine more than she already has, she's safe from me."

"That isn't nearly good enough…"

"Sit down, Brandon!" Rickard snapped. "I apologize on my son's behalf, my lady," he said. "He's still upset by all that's happened. I appreciate your honesty and I thank you."

Her eyes were dark and fiery. She seemed to realize that she was unable to mask that, so she looked down. Rickard left her to that. He realized that whatever else she might have said, it would have been a lie.

"It looks like the first conflict of many has already arisen," Elia Hightower said calmly; stunned, Rickard saw her serene smile. "I daresay these chambers will see many more angry clashes and insulting words. But if we don't forget out common goal, I think it should all be fine, at the end."

Brandon gave her a look of distrust but didn't say anything. She smiled a little and Rickard suddenly realized why she had been brought to this meeting. She's be the peacemaker. His respect for Alynna Gargalen grew up a notch.

"Do we have a common goal?" he asked.

"My goal is to remedy the mistakes the former King did," the Princess said. "And I'm afraid many of them were at your expense, my lord. I sent a raven to the Eyrie as soon as I got a hold on his correspondence."

The Eyrie! Rickard looked at her in horror and Brandon started to rise again. "Ned! He…"

"He'll be fine," the woman said quickly. "I think. The day of the trial, King Aerys sent a raven to Jon Arryn demanding his wards' heads. I, of course, cancelled this order as soon as I realized it had been issued."

The day of the trial. Only yesterday. Gods, what if she had been late? What if Jon Arryn turned to be untrustworthy? What if… No, he would certainly not hurry to behead Ned as soon as Aerys told him to. And the second letter would have arrived almost immediately after the first one.

"I expect a raven from Lord Arryn soon," the Princess said. "I invited him to attend my son's court, along with both young men."

Rickard looked away at the thought that he'd have to explain to Robert why the wedding would not take place. It would be so humiliating, having to apologize on Lyanna's behalf, _admit_ what she had done. It would mean a certain rift with the Stormlands. There was no saying which way Jon Arryn would turn. He loved both Ned and Robert. _How could Lyanna destroy our standing so carelessly?_

"I wish to restore the good relations, my lord," the Dornish woman went on. "I do not feel any guilt on the Prince's behalf but I'd like my son's realm to be one of peace and harmony – as much as possible. That's why, as a sign of my good will, I offer you a marriage in exchange for the one you lost."

He looked at her, all attention. Her hand was caressing the string before her. The rope she'd hang them on if they didn't accept her offer of piece?

"My eldest daughter, the Lady of the Tor, is eight years old and neither my goodmother nor I have made any plans as to her future. Your son is twelve, I believe?"

"Thirteen," Rickard corrected mechanically, his mind working. "I haven't made any plans about him either."

He had been meaning to build a castle but the woman's suggestion sounded much better. Not as good as it would have been for Benjen to rule in his wife's name but better than being provided for by Winterfell entirely. And vastly superior to the Night's Watch, ever a last resort for the Starks. The Tor was one of the finest lands in Dorne, and rich as well. And it might be even better if all belonged to the girl in deed as well as name. Dragonstone and the Iron Throne had been meant for Rhaegar Targaryen. This hadn't stopped the snake of a woman in front of him to claim both in retaliation.

"Perhaps my daughter could be your plan?" the Princess suggested.

"It could be," he agreed. Things were getting better than he had expected. And if they forged an alliance and kinship, it was less likely that she'd be willing to harm Lyanna if the stupid girl, may the gods keep her, stepped into her nest.

Finally, she looked up. Grim resolve tightened her features into a clay mask broken by the involuntary movement of muscles when her lips tightened. "There's just one more thing. He must go to Dorne. Squire for my goodbrother in Tor or one of my brothers."

"Out of question," Rickard said without thinking twice. He was not sending Ben so far away, in the land of snakes that had a reason to hate him on Lyanna's behalf, so soon after the scandal.

She ground her teeth. "Very well," she said. "We have nothing to talk about, then."

He waited for her to go on, mention little Renly Baratheon's name. But all he got in reply was her hard breathing. It was strange how of all things that had transpired in the last days, this would be the one to steer her out of the road of her well-controlled balance of mind and behavior. This. A very ordinary bargaining.

Her eyes glinted wet and his bewilderment turned to horror. He could deal with many things but weeping women were not one of them. She brought her hand under her nose and it came down gleaming. Mikkel Gargalen handed her a piece of cloth. She blew her nose, took a few deep breaths and remained silent.

"Is that it?" Rickard asked because he really didn't understand. One did not leave negotiations open like this.

"Yes, I think," she replied, her resolve restored, and glared at him with the same anger her brother had regarded Brandon with. The tears made her eyes deeper, wider. "I shall not discuss it further. For all my attempts to explain your daughter's behavior away, she was a party to my offense and humiliation. I was endangered. My children were placed in danger. And you can believe me when I say that the thought of giving even the lowliest whore in Dorne to a Stark is repellent to me, yet I have to offer you my own daughter. But I won't tolerate someone who is a complete stranger to us to saunter one day and take the place alongside my little girl without knowing anything about us beside the fact that we're _Dornish_. Or someone who'd ruin her health to get children out of her the way Rhaegar Targaryen did with me and then run away with the first tail he takes a liking to!"

Her ugly words echoed in the solar, for she was now shouting. Elia Hightower placed a hand on her arm. "Please, Alynna," she said. "Peace and common goal."

There was something soothing about the girl, Rickard could feel it even through his own anger. And he had the feeling that they'd all need much soothing of nerves in the months to come. Common goal could attribute to peace only so much.

* * *

Two hundred thirty three. That was how many stairs the wretched tower had. Rhaegar had counted them more than two hundred thirty three times in the last six moons. He simply didn't have anything better to do. All his scenarios of what he'd do to his perjurious wife had been exhausted, repeated more times than he could count and at the end, even his prolific imagination had refused to supply him with more. All the water spots on his walls had been accounted for. All the songs he could wrench from the harp he had been oh so generously allowed to keep had been played and it laid forgotten and unwanted under the window, much like Alynna's harp when she had been unable to handle it with her bloated fingers. And lately, he hadn't been in the right mood anyway. Finally, he had realized that no one would come for them. That whatever Alynna, that traitor Arthur, and her brute of a father had had in mind might have actually worked. And the handful of servants and the dozen of men guarding them turned mum when asked questions.

That was the reason that he met Alor Gargalen's arrival early in the morning with relief that almost equaled his anger. By his brief acquaintance with his goodbrother, he knew that Alor would tell him what was going on, even if he tried to stab him to death in the process.

"Is he bringing us freedom?" Lyanna asked hungrily.

"I doubt it," Rhaegar said softly because he truly regretted her disappointment. As it often happened, she turned her back to him and went to watch the rider from the other window.

"I am glad to see you're well-looked after," Alor said when he dismounted. "Is there something you'd like to receive in regards to your comfort?"

"No," Rhaegar replied. "But thank you for your concern," he added sarcastically. "To travel this long just to take care of us."

"It won't be a repeated occurrence," Alor assured him. "We're moving you."

Rhaegar couldn't say he was this surprised. This tower, as abandoned as it was, was no place for keeping someone for a long period of time. "Where?"

Alor pretended not to hear. "In a few days, it'll be a fact. We're preparing your new lodgings."

"Until when?" Rhaegar asked angrily. "This is getting ridiculous! You cannot keep us forever."

"Indeed." Alor was now headed for the small stable. The rest of them followed him, desperate to get something more of him. Lyanna was very pale and Rhaegar felt extremely guilty. He had promised her freedom and instead he had gotten her in a prison worse than the one she had dreaded.

Alor started rubbing his horse dry. "I am here because Alynna ordered it," he said. "She wants to make sure your accommodations are adequate. Personally, I cannot fathom why she bothers. I was all for doing away with both of you and save ourselves many troubles…"

"Since when do you take orders from Alynna?" Rhaegar asked, straining to see him better in the dimly lit stable. There were no windows and the smell of horses was everywhere.

"Since I swore my loyalty to her as the regent of our King Aegon, the Sixth of His Name," Alor replied with a slow deliberate smile. He had his eyes fixed on Rhaegar, determined not to miss a moment of his reaction. "Yes, many things changed since you decided to take a break from everything and let your wife and children pay for your pleasure, so to speak. Your father's madness became extremely dangerous to everyone, so a new king was in demand. So two weeks ago, the coronation took place. Everyone was there and swore – Mace Tyrell, Robert Baratheon… Rickard Stark."

"That's a lie!" Lyanna cried out. "My father would never swear fealty to this woman."

"Bloody thieves," Rhaegar spat, a flush overcoming his face and neck.

"That's not what the lords said. No one was pleased that you chose to disappear without a word, leading to a group of Northern lords and their sons being executed because Brandon Stark demanded that you'd come out or die."

"What!" Lyanna screamed and swayed precariously. Rhaegar tried to support her but she pushed him back and leaned against a bale of hay.

"Oh your father and brother aren't dead, my lady," Alor reassured her. "Not by the lack of trying on Aerys' part. He tried to kill them because he thought your flight was a part of a great conspiracy. If my sister hadn't taken care of him that same night, your family size would have gotten a lot smaller."

"What happened?" Rhaegar whispered, fear being the emotion sweeping everything else. "Is he… did she…?"

"No, he isn't dead," his goodbrother said and Rhaegar could breathe again. "Your mother and brother are untouched."

"What do you care?" Lyanna yelled and glared at Rhaegar and then the Dornishman. "Why didn't she have him killed? How many of my people did he put to death?"

Alor glanced at her. "It isn't our job to avenge your dead, my lady. We're only bound to take care and keep as many alive as possible. My sister and her children most of all." He turned to Rhaegar. "You! Do you realize what you _did_? Alynna was summoned to answer for your running away. He pushed her to the marble as she was holding your son. Do you realize that Aegon might have died?" He paused and took a breath to collect himself. "Well, that was something else that no one liked. Few people like their kings abandoning ruling and families to run away to Essos. So they were open to Alynna's… suggestions."

"Bribes, you mean." Rhaegar's anger was rising again.

"As you wish. What matters is that almost all the kingdoms support her and swore fealty to Aegon. There were some who spoke in your favour but by the day of coronation, those were vanishingly few." He shrugged. "I recommended that she sent Jon Connington in exile. We'll see."

That traitorous snake! Was she about to take her revenge on anyone whose only fault was staying loyal? "Jon did nothing!"

"He refused to swear the oath," Alor said. "That's treason."

Rhaegar grabbed a pack of hey and threw it against him. "What you did, that's treason!"

"Is it?" Alor wondered, taking a straw out of his hair and turning it this way and that. "The lords didn't think this way. And it isn't as if the blood of the dragon has been lost. Do not forget that my lady grandmother is a sister of King Aegon's, and an older one at that." The thoughtfulness disappeared from his face and in its place came fierceness. "You lost, Rhaegar. Accept it. You lost!"

With a horrifying clarity, Rhaegar realized that he had. He had lost his crown. He had lost his children. He had even lost his life without anyone taking it away, for he'd be prisoner until Alynna decided to let him go. If she ever did.

"Remember," he heard her murmur. "Next time, they'll be poisonous ones."

* * *

The time was dragging by. Then stopped at all. Then started dragging again. Alynna had wished to leave the evening feast sooner but she didn't dare. And still, just by staying there she had the feeling that she was giving her secret away. Surely people would only need to look at her to see the glowing that she felt inside?

He was waiting in her solar. Just at the sight of him, all silver and radiant with joy, made her feel weak.

Arthur closed the door and stood to guard it.

She was alone with him, and the gentle aroma of the star kisses he had brought her.

"Errol," she whispered and fell silent because her voice betrayed her. That was the first time they saw each other in more than a year.

He crossed the solar, took her face between his palms, caressed it with a look. "Gods," he whispered and it was not joy that she saw on his face now but pain, torment at what she had been through, what was written in the lines of her face in letters that only he could see.

And then, the shield gave out. Tears ran down her cheeks, the tears that she had kept in all this time – when she had realized that she alone would face Aerys' fury, when she had lived in this terrible uncertainty that Rhaegar might appear with his new woman and drive her away, when she had seen the fury of the madman directed straight at her, when she had been riding to and away from the Dragon Gate, when she had been throwing flatteries and threats to win lords over… Finally, she could let herself weep.

He held her tight, his face buried in her hair, his heart beating unevenly against her cheek. She clung to him as if she'd never let go and she didn't, even when her sobs subsided and her throat burned. She only did when she had to blow her nose. She supposed it looked red, her entire face puffy and hard to the touch. Tears did not flatter her looks.

"I love you, you should know this," she said very softly but she knew that he'd hear.

"No," he said. "I didn't. I thought you might but I wasn't sure. I wanted so much to be so that I thought I might be seeing things."

"I've known it since you gave me those star kisses at Harrenhal. Not a crown of roses. Not huge vases to impress. But something that you knew I liked. Even after ten years."

He took her hands between his own and for the first time in many months, Alynna felt safe and cared for. "I think I could never forget anything about you."

"I thought you had," she whispered and drank some water. "When you stopped…"

Errol didn't answer immediately. Instead, he led her to a couch and brought an additional pillow for her back. She tugged at his arms to make him sit down next to her.

"You were always there," he finally said. "I think that's why I didn't realize what I felt for you. Even that time when I returned and you were away already." He smiled. "Wed to Myles. But the first time I saw the two of you together…" He paused. "It wasn't this easy, you know. I loved him as well, he was a dear friend. I had to stay away. I just couldn't be around the two of you together. I am glad I could be around him, though."

Love. Jealousy. Friendship. Desire. Such a strange and mysterious thing life was! The fact that he hadn't hated Myles over her had comforted her in those first months after her husband's death. It probably comforted him, too, even now. "I am glad as well," she murmured and then, as if having received an unspoken permission, he leaned over and kissed her.

When they split up, Alynna was looking at him amazed. Twenty-five-year-old, two marriages behind, and that was the first time she felt so completed, as if a long forgotten part of her had finally sprang to activity and clicked into its place. She moved closer, feeling that she'd die if she didn't try to melt into him.

"Love isn't what the singers say it is."

There was wonder in her voice and Errol laughed as he looked at her. "You don't need to look so indignant."

"But I do!" Alynna protested. "They get it wrong and for a while, they made me doubt if what I felt for you was love at all. I didn't think of you with passion all that often as I fought my battle expecting Aegon and later when I played the game of thrones. Just sometimes, when I had a moment to spare. Most of time, you were just… there. I didn't need to think about you at all."

He was silent, enjoying her irritation. Alynna had never tolerated being made a fool of. But she looked like she had always had when finding out something new and wonderful.

Then, the glowing in her eyes disappeared and his heart ached as always when she was hurt. "What?" he asked. "What is it?"

"I just wish I could wed you," Alynna whispered. "But it cannot happen, can it?"

"No," he said very softly. 'You can just have me. And you do."

As he had aimed, the sorrow disappeared. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him so tight that she might be trying to suffocate him. "I love you so much Errol! How is it possible that I didn't know?"

Smiling, he parted her hands a little, just so that he could breathe, and then held her back. "Well, now you know it and that's all that matter, am I right?"


	7. Clouds Gathering, Clouds Going

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed – those who liked the story and the one who found it interesting without liking my OC.**

A Snake in the Mists

 _Clouds Gathering, Clouds Going_

With time, Lyanna get to know the people who served them – the grim flaxen-haired men who brought over their meals and the water for their wooden tubs, the laundress who once a week came for their clothes and once every two weeks – for their linens and most of all, the middle-aged woman who came every day to keep their chambers clean. Sidara, she was called, and she didn't mind talking to Lyanna from time to time. It was about small things – the peddlers who had come to the castle, small ailments and which one of the kitchen girls would soon be in trouble if she didn't stop seeing this groom… She was always ready to bring fresh flowers for Lyanna's bathwater, cut her hair when it became too long and always took care to ask if they needed anything specific and brought new books over regularly without being reminded.

"Perhaps you should have become a master," Rhaegar said one day, early in their time here, and she smiled, although it stung a little to think that he considered her too wild, or too… womanly to be interested in books.

As time passed, he would not dare tell her such a thing. They kept each other company but at the same time, they were so tired of never going away from each other's company. Sometimes, Lyanna didn't leave her room in days, just because she couldn't bear to see the woman, Rhaegar and Oswell Whent, and no one else. Those were the days she closed the door of her bedchamber to Rhaegar, would have bolted it if they had bolts. Thankfully, he never insisted. He was not a violent man.

On the outside, it looked as if like Lyanna had become reconciled with her fate to never leave this place, this tower at Salt Shore, in a patch of land where no one seemed to go by and whose location she couldn't say. But nothing could be further away from the truth. She was constantly looking for signs in the faces, voices, even gaits of the very few people they were allowed to meet. She was getting out of here, no matter what Rhaegar's embittered wife wanted to do with them. Lately, she had started to suspect that it was just leaving them to spend their lives here.

Grave would be a mercy.

With keenness she had never suspected that she possessed, Lyanna tried to figure the servants out. Instincts and timbre of voice told her that the middle-aged woman, the handmaiden, pitied her and as much as that enraged her, Lyanna was determined to make the most of it.

"Do you have any children, Sinara?" she asked one day as the woman cut her wild dark-brown hair.

"I do, my lady," the woman replied and smoothed a curl out to check the length. "Two daughters and a son."

"What do they do for living?" Lyanna asked.

"My daughters work in the castle and my son is on Lord Carral's ships."

"So he loves freedom," Lyanna said. "Like me, yet he's free while I am…"

"Don't," the woman said and narrowed her eyes. "Are you asking me to betray Lady Alynna by helping you escape? You might as well ask the sea to stop coming and going."

Her voice was as soft as ever, yet her expression was determined. Lyanna had made a mistake and while it threw her into anger and despair, there was very little fear involved. What could happen to her from now on? What worse than the fate she was currently facing?

And then, one night, three years after she first took to the way with someone who had promised her freedom, another promise like that came, brought by no other than Alor Gargalen himself. And this time, Lyanna knew better than trust it.

* * *

"I hear that you have tried to make my wetnurse betray me."

 _Her wetnurse!_ Somehow, in all their conversations, this aspect of Sinara's life had never come out in their conversations. But of course, Alynna would grant access only to people whom she fully trusted. Lyanna ground her teeth, realizing that the other woman had won a small victory again. She was glad that she had refused to curtsey when she had been brought over to the chamber Rhaegar's wife waited in. Now, she looked at the woman and had to admit that Alynna Gargalen looked far better than she had four years ago. At least she wasn't as big as a house anymore. And she looked quite indifferent to Lyanna's answer and Lyanna herself. Lyanna didn't know if she should feel relieved or insulted. Perhaps if the other woman was indifferent, she would grant her freedom.

"I was told you were going to let me go."

"I am. Take a seat."

Warily, Lyanna did so and Alynna's smile told her that the other woman knew her little fear – that the chair would turn out to be broken and she'd collapse in the most humiliating fashion.

"I was told that your moon blood has come."

How dared this woman stick her nose into Lyanna's linens! She didn't say anything, fighting the impulse to jump at Alynna's throat. "Is this all you can think about?"

"When the stability of the Seven Kingdoms is threatened, yes, it is."

"The stability of the Seven Kingdom, or your son's position and your own power?"

Alynna didn't recoil at the accusation. "They are one and the same. Fortunately, it looks like you aren't carrying a child."

"Fortunately for you?" Lyanna challenged.

"And you, unless being released isn't what you wish?"

Lyanna's breath caught. She had never thought that the stated intention could be a real one.

"Why would you do this?"

Alynna shrugged. "It was never my intention to keep you forever. Just until things start going the way they should. It took three years but I can finally say we achieved it."

Lyanna hesitated. She was smart enough to know that killing them would have been Alynna's only sensible option, yet she hadn't chosen it.

"I'll tell my father."

Alynna smiled a little. "Of course you will." She didn't look too disturbed. "Lord Stark is a smart man. He wouldn't lose time and efforts in a losing game to avenge something that could have been much worse had I so chosen." She paused, thoughtful. "And I daresay he'd be as angry with you as he would with me if not more. After all, I only kept you safe from the bigger troubles you could have inflicted upon yourself. With the way you went about things, you dishonoured him, broke the friendship between the Starks, Tullys, and Arryns that he has been cultivating so carefully, made him lose face with his own bannermen – let alone the fact that the lives of many of them were lost – and deprived him of the chance to see a grandson on the Iron Throne."

Lyanna supposed she should have protested, said that such a thought had never crossed her mind. But it would be a lie. In all those years Alynna had stolen from her life, she had imagined all kinds of scenarios, all shades of vengeance.

Some noise from the outside drew her to the window. Her eyes widened and watered at the sight of two men tending the garden below the solar. She had even been deprived of such a simple joy – watch someone doing their everyday duties.

"What about Rhaegar?" she finally asked.

"They'll leave for Essos soon," Alynna replied. "You can go with him if you want."

"I don't! I only want to go home!"

Alynna looked at the younger woman with interest. _So, it's true_ , she thought. _She wanted freedom more than she wanted Rhaegar._ For a moment, she felt a pang of conscience. Killing a wolf was one thing but imprisoning it, quite another. Had she really expected that Lyanna Stark would be transformed into a meek puppy? She hadn't given the girl much of a thought because was it the girl she should be thinking about when she had spiders to evict, ties to create, and ironborn to repulse?

"Then you will," she said. "But I think before that, you should go to the Tor. Your youngest brother wants to see you." She smiled wryly. "Perhaps by the time I visit, he'd have overcome his wish to throttle me."

And Lyanna realized that Alynna must have created many ties indeed if she was sure that she'd be allowed to go away unpunished even when Lyanna told the truth.

"I wish you a safe journey, Lady Lyanna," Alynna said and once the girl was led away, she looked at Alor who had not uttered a sound once. "I'm glad she's in good state. Even her pride has survived. I wonder, how does one deal without it?"

"I suggest that you ask Errol," Alor replied drily. "Since you seem to think that he has none."

Alynna looked away and tried to tell herself that she'd sort this out.

* * *

"When I die, I want a fish funeral."

Gillerd Gargalen looked at his brother and then looked at him again. And then laughed. "A fish funeral? This is even a thing?"

"Of course it is," Errol said nonchalantly. "It's easy. You take my cold dead body, you pack it off into a boat, you transport it some distance away in the sea – let's say, where we are now – and then you lower it into the water. I only find it fair that fishes eat me off after all the fish I have eaten in my life…"

Gillerd shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "I knew you were a fair man but I had no idea just how far this dangerous ailment has spread…"

"Shut up and row."

"Yes, my lord," Gillerd agreed.

For a while, they only rowed, coming back from the Gauntlet, the small island inhibited only by birds, wild animals, and people who wanted to take a break. They had spent the last week there, eating only what they could catch and talking only when they really wanted to. They had really quarreled but since they were as different in temper as they were in looks, Errol with the silver hair and the silk wrapping his steel, and the dark Gillerd, as easy to inflame as the sun of Dorne, they could hardly spend this much time together without getting cross and it happened when Errol realized that his brother was deliberately slowing his rowing to match it to his own, more tortured rhythm.

"Don't do this," he snapped. " _Never_ do such a thing again. If you think I am too slow, you can just say so. But don't try to hide it from me."

Gillerd shook his head. Their clash with the ironborn had left Errol with a terribly torn arm that would take many months to fully restore its strength. For a while, they had even feared that he might lose it.

"I won't," Gillerd said simply and the third member of their crew stared out into the sea again. The two men looked at the five-year-old they both loved dearly and then at each other, with the same thought: Laval was clearly expecting that they'd start quarreling again. Errol shook his head, displeased with himself. It was him who started the tensions usually and he didn't like the turn he had taken those last few months.

"Laval, your father and I, we aren't arguing," he said and the boy nodded. Errol felt guilty because his nephew had expected this trip so much – and he had spoiled everything at the very end.

"Aren't we?" Gillerd murmured but softly.

This day, there was not a single cloud in the sky. It shone dark blue, as dark as the velvet of the sea around them, and the air was so hot that even the current their boat produced died before it reached their faces. The only stirring came from the movements of their rows. Gillerd and Laval, as olive-skinned as his father, had turned even darker while Errol's eyes shone brighter on his newly tanned face. Life at King's Landing had washed away what he considered his natural complexion, replacing it with milky whiteness that might be his true skin colour but was not him at all, and neither was this foul mood.

"We're home!" Laval yelled excitedly and jumped from the boat before any of the two men could catch him. With their heart in their mouth, they waited until he was a little away from the dangerous hull and then grinned and waved as he stared moving alongside. He swam as easily as a fish and soon they were in competition, boat against boy, and Gillerd shook his head when Errol tried to slow his movements so that Laval could win.

"I don't want to give him victories as a gift," he said. "He must learn that he won't be able to win every time."

The very fact that Laval, the firstborn of a second son, would inherit Salt Shore one day, was a victory in Errol's mind but he wasn't going to say so. Gillerd didn't like to talk about this future.

"Is this a dolphin that we have here?" Gillerd yelled and his son grinned in reply.

The two men kept rowing but their focus on Laval grew although they didn't show it. Real dolphins had come near the boat, curious, and one never knew.

"I am sorry," Errol suddenly said.

"Don't be," Gillerd replied. "Just have some more time here with us and then go back and make things right with your sorceress, our cousin."

"Do not talk about her," Errol warned. "Don't even think about her."

"I don't want her," his brother said with unruffled calm. "I have one of my own. She's the one _you_ need."

"No," Errol said angrily, although they both knew it was a lie. Even Laval looked up, as if he had heard and disapproved of the denial. Even if he had – and their family wasn't exactly discreet with each other regarding Alynna and Errol's relationship – he couldn't say that Errol was lying, could he? But then, what did Errol know about children? It wasn't as if he'd ever have one of his own.

* * *

When Alynna looked through the window for like a hundred and third time in the last hour, even her cousin Loreza Sand lost her famous self-possession.

"Would you please sit down?" she scolded. "I am getting tired just by watching you pace. Errol will come when he comes and not a moment earlier."

Alynna glared at her but Loreza's bulging belly saved her from the angry reply Alynna would have otherwise delivered without thinking twice.

"They're already here," Loreza went on. "By now, Errol knows you have arrived. He cannot avoid you forever."

 _Can't he_ , Alynna wondered. Lately, it had struck her just how similar her relationship to Errol was to that of Loreza and Gillerd. One reasonable partner and one fiery one. One as warmly radiant as the sun and one burning as hot as a midnight fire. And because of this, Loreza was able to hold her distance from her husband without angry outbursts but longer than he did with her.

Loreza sighed. "What now?" she asked. "Come on, then. Let's go and find them."

Alynna shook her head. "You go," she said, knowing that Loreza was impatient to see her husband and son. "I'll stay here."

"Hiding in my solar again?" Loreza asked and this time, Alynna grabbed a pillow and showed it to her cousin in a threatening fashion at which Loreza showed her common sense and stopped her encouragements.

This night, she didn't join the rest of them for supper. Always one of a hearty appetite, she didn't feel like eating, so it wasn't only avoidance of certain people. Instead, she stood at the highest terrace of the castle, one that overlooked all the courts, every garden and as much from the sea as possible and listened to the songs and laughs erupting from the great hall. She no longer belonged to this castle where she had been born and lived happily and that pained her. Her place was at King's Landing with her son, the king who was so young.

Her eyes went to the west, in the direction her husband was being kept. Soon, that, too, would change. She firmly suppressed all twinges of guilt. What should she have done, let him run away to Essos leaving her and the children to pay the price? Force him to return to King's Landing, thus prompting him to coerce her into joining the Faith and disinheriting Aegon as Lord Stark would have no doubt insisted? Or execute her move in _his_ name? The very idea made her laugh.

No, Rhaegar was not her main concern. The situation was finally stable and she was stealing this month for herself, to make things right in her own life. Or try to.

* * *

"Are you still angry with me?" she asked as soon as Errol entered her chambers. It was late at night and she had been thinking of getting ready for bed, convinced that he wouldn't come.

He stepped away from the shadow, so she could fully see him. "No," he said quietly.

Alynna noticed that he had lost much weight, saw the stiff way he held his arm. Tears welled up in her eyes. She felt like she was fighting a lost battle. Why had she come here? What could she offer him? A lifetime of hiding and nothing else. His mother was right in her disdain about their relationship.

"Were you hiding?" he asked. "From my mother?"

She startled. Had he read her thoughts?

"Kind of," she admitted. "We haven't really had much to talk about since I came here. I mean, what can I tell her? _How are you, Aunt Isanne? I must tell you that I have a great time fucking your son when not hiding him under my bed or something._ "

He looked at her with a smile in his eyes. They both knew that Loreza had told the lady something in this vein before announcing that she'd wed Gillerd. Isanne, of course, had been terrified. "Were you hiding from me?" he asked.

She blushed. She couldn't tell him that she was scared of facing his anger over her decision to deprive him of his place in the more dangerous sea battles against the ironborn – not that it had done him much good – as much of finding out that he might have chosen to go the traditional way, find a wife and sire an heir. That was so selfish of her, wanting to keep him all to herself depriving him of the joy of having a child of his own. But she didn't want him in half. She'd never lay down with another woman's husband, even if it was Errol! She'd never be able to see him with another woman, a wife, even if it was her, Alynna, that he loved.

"Perhaps," Alynna admitted with a rueful smile, not sure what to make of his behavior. She had expected having to placate him. He had not returned to her after their defeat of the ironborn. He had not come to her till very late in the night either. But now, he looked as collected and loving as ever. Would she ever understand this man she had grown up with? "Aren't you angry?"

"Over your choice of keeping me out of the most dangerous spot? Yes, I am."

She looked at his arm meaningfully. "I cannot say it was so safe for you. I heard that you might need to have it amputated."

He went very still, cursing his pride. He had never stopped to consider that not returning to King's Landing meant that she'd get the news about the changes in his state with delays. "No," he said softly. "At the end, it turned out that it'll recover. Fully, perhaps." He paused. "So much for your grand plans concerning my person and dangers."

Alynna swallowed. It looked like he wouldn't let her off the hook this easily. She had hurt more than his pride. "Fine! I admit it was more dangerous at sea. It was bad enough that my father had to be one of the leaders there. I wanted to keep you safe. Am I this terrible a person for this?" She made a step towards him, looked him straight in the eye. "You've told me that the last few years have been squeezing warmth out of me, pushing me against darkness even more – and I've always been closer to dark than you are. When I'm with you, it's like the sun chases it away. I'll do anything to keep you alive and at my side. That's why I came… and why I was hiding from you."

He sighed and reached out to touch her cheek. His fingers were warm as ever, perhaps even warmer, turned golden by the sun of their own land. "You were afraid that I'd reject you? I committed this folly once and it didn't make me happier than it did you. But just as you have your limits – like not sharing me with another woman – I have my own. Do not try such a thing again, Alynna. Ever. Because it'll be the end as surely as my taking a wife would. What's this?"

Alynna blinked, surprised by his quick change of topic. He was staring through the window at the small group of riders that were now leaving the inner yard. "They're going for the Stark girl. Escorting her home."

"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "I heard that's what she chose. And I suppose you'll now release him as well? Send him away in exile?"

Alynna blushed. She realized just how stupid she was being. She didn't need any reminders of that. Getting rid of the two of them would have been the most prudent choice… but Errol was smiling.

"You are closer to the light than you think, my heart," he said gently, raising her hands to his lips for a kiss; lightheaded with relief, Alynna pressed her head against his shoulder and felt that everything in her world would be fine again.


	8. In the Shadows

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A Snake in the Mists

 _In the Shadows_

The leather ball was small and very soft. It could easily fit into a man's palm and it was something little children loved playing with, squeezing it to no end. Yet Errol looked at it as if it was an enemy's warhammer. He'd like to delay the moment of his fight with it but that would mean spending the rest of the day under the shadow of anticipation, so he braced himself, took the ball in the palm of his left hand, and squeezed. Tried to.

Sweat beaded his forehead. He barely contained a cry. The pain was such as if the muscles and tendons had been cut off – which had almost happened. He didn't remember every blow but it looked that the problems with his torn arm had concealed the greater problems with his wrist and fingers. They were now so weak that he had no strength left in them and the finer motions were well beyond his reach. The tiny soft ball presented a greater challenge than anything the master-at-arms had ever demanded of him, extremely painful and very exhausting.

The door opened and Errol spun around, furious. He was far from happy that anyone would witness his fruitless efforts and opening the door of his bedchamber without asking was something no one did, so that was what he said. "I would expect of you to knock before entering," he said angrily.

"I did," Alynna replied. "You just didn't hear me."

"Ah." He renewed his efforts. Now, when the motions had to come from his hand and not the entire arm, his weakness was visible. He tried not to look at Alynna, for he hated the mix of guilt and sympathy that he knew he'd find there. The thought that he might never be able to grab her and spin her around was almost more than he could bear. "Have you had a clash with my mother again?"

She didn't answer immediately and when she did, her voice was full of remorse. "No. But even your father wishes that you found someone else. I am not the woman he'd want for you." She paused. "If one of my own children found yourself in your position with someone like me," she added, "I'd dislike me as well."

Errol sighed and tried to open and close his fingers around the ball slowly, in a controlled motion. All he got was a reflexive jerk that didn't complete either motion, at which point he chose to let go of the activity.

"Care to go out for a ride?" he asked and she beamed at him.

"I'll beat you to the Hoof!" she cried and went to her chambers to change.

* * *

The date when the portrait had been drawn was not specified but Alynna knew the girl must have been very young. She had wed when she had been younger than Alynna at the time of her first wedding and the portrait had been drawn before that. Thirteen or fourteen perhaps? Her hips looked quite narrow and her breasts were almost nonexistent at this point yet something about her hinted of great beauty that, according to written accounts, had soon become reality. She looked nothing like Alynna, save for the gleaming waterfall of dark hair. Alynna had always liked the slight wickedness in her smile, taking it to point at the girl's character. But this night, all she could see was the glint of violet eyes. She knew it was from the candlelight, of course she knew that, but it felt like judgment. "Do you condemn me for my treatment of him, my lady?" she asked the portrait. "Would you have done the same in my circumstances?"

Of course, the girl couldn't have replied even if she could, by a whim of the Stranger, hear the question. She was a girl, closer to Lyanna Stark's age than Alynna and with no experience in life yet. In fact, she had died when she had been younger than Alynna was now. And of course, her husband had never left her to face the music for his own misdeeds while he planned to live away in romantic oblivion with another, younger woman.

Yes. That was what she needed to remind herself constantly. She had not gone north to usurp Rhaegar's rights. She had done her duty by him while he had happily shirked his by her. And she would not feel any guilt. Any at all.

* * *

It was late in the evening when they came for him. "Come with me," an elderly man whose resemblance to his father made Rhaegar jump out of his skin for a moment. "Alynna wants to talk to you."

"Where is Lady Lyanna?" Rhaegar asked sharply. He had been going mad with worry, having woken up and found out that she was not there. He had placed little trust on the information that she had been released.

"She's on her way to her North," the man answered and Rhaegar gave him a look of disbelief.

"Do you expect of me to believe such an outright lie?"

The man didn't even shrug. "Why would I lie to you?" he asked. "What do I gain? Come on."

Indeed, Alynna had nothing to gain by lying to him. And she certainly wasn't interesting in soothing Rhaegar's fears. _Lyanna must be on her way home, indeed_ , Rhaegar thought with great relief.

"What does she want of me?" he asked.

"She will tell you herself," the man replied but when Oswell Whent rose to accompany them, he shook his head. "You're staying here. Have no fear, he'll be back soon."

"Yes, Ser Oswell, stay here," Rhaegar said. The last thing he wanted was to bring more trouble to Oswell. He had already done him a lot of harm.

It was a nice cool night when they finally left the tower that had become Rhaegar's prison. He breathed the fresh air in, took the sight just beyond the horizon from his window that had tormented him with his nearness and invisibility and knew that if Alynna tried to imprison him again, he'd rather die. He eyed the chestnut they had brought for him and for a moment of madness, he wondered if he could escape. But the old man seemed to read his thoughts because his people closed ranks around Rhaegar as they rode. Despite everything, Rhaegar was overjoyed to feel the well-trained animal beneath him. The sand steed was as tense as a harp spring, replying to even the slightest movements of his thighs. For a moment, he wondered what had happened to the one that had been part of the gifts sent from Dorne on the occasion of his wedding. In the beginning, Alynna had accompanied him on her own fast horse and they had both enjoyed their long rides. But then she had gotten with child and one of the occupations that brought them together had been over.

Now, they were going past a carpet of flowers, their aroma gentle and mixing with the breath of sea. It was strange to think of that now but Rhaegar had only ever associated Alynna with the vast expanse of sand that made Dorne like no other kingdom, golden and rich, and hot enough to burn everyone who had displeased it. He had never thought that she might have even _seen_ flowers before traveling north for their wedding. Those looked dark in the moonlight but he imagined that in bright sunlight, they might be pleasing lavender, or perhaps deep violet hiding shades of paler purple in their hearts.

A castle slowly rose before them, tall and threatening. It was a testament to Rhaegar's despair that he wouldn't mind all this much even if he was killed there. Anything was better than returning to his prison.

With some surprise, he realized that no one cared to hide his face too much. Sure, he was instructed to keep his hood lowered but there were no extra measures. Perhaps it was because of the time – at this hour of night, the yards were almost deserted and of those who remained, almost no one looked at them. He met the eye of a young girl but she paid him no mind and anyway, would he really want to put a child in danger even if she _could_ help him?

They entered the stone structure, their steps echoing against the walls. A long hallway was lit sparsely but enough to prevent accidental bumping or stumbling. On his left, Rhaegar saw the open door of a deserted great hall, with the basilisk banner on one wall. But they didn't enter. Instead, they climbed a staircase, walked through two adjacent smaller halls and the man who looked so disconcertingly like Aerys raised a hand to knock at a door. "Come in," a woman's voice said at the other side.

The door opened.

Here she was. Sitting in a wide, well-padded chair, she left the parchment she had been reading and looked at the men accompanying Rhaegar. "Thank you," she said. "You may leave now. Arthur will pick up from now on."

Rhaegar looked left and right and sure, here the traitor was, standing against the wall, all attention. His turned cloak was gleaming obscenely white against the dark panel-work.

"Are you her sworn shield now?" Rhaegar asked with contempt as the rest of them filed away.

"No," Arthur said evenly.

"I don't have a sworn shield," Alynna said. "All men in the Kingsguard are equal."

That was smart of her, Rhaegar had to admit as he took a seat, wondering if she'd have Arthur to try and make him rise again. He wouldn't put it past her. She was petty enough for such small actions.

He looked at her with undisguised curiosity – and then a portrait on the wall caught his eye. The girl he had encountered in the courtyard? No, the portrait was too old for that. And then, he recognized the sitter. He had seen her shown as an older woman, still very young but a woman nonetheless, in the Red Keep. "Dyanna Dayne?" he asked.

Alynna nodded. "That was the portrait my lady grandmother received as a gift from Starfall when she wed my grandfather."

"There was a girl in the yard when I came… The resemblance was remarkable. Is she a Dayne?"

Alynna shook her head. "You've seen my eldest daughter. Yes, I've often heard that she's the very image of Lady Dyanna – and her own great-grandmother, of course. The Valyrian blood is strong with her, people say."

Rhaegar stared at her. "That's the most you've ever said about your children," he said.

"You never asked," she replied and for a moment, he was stricken by the sudden thought that they might have just missed each other. He had been trying not to infringe in her private space and grief and she, in turn, had taken that to mean that he wasn't interested. What else had they taken the wrong way about each other? _Had_ there been a chance for them to create something solid, so she would not take her grudges to such extreme? Or that he would not feel the need for something more, better? At least in the beginning, it had looked better… Since then, he had had plenty of time to ponder and wonder what he had been thinking.

He gave her a careful examination. She now looked older, more careworn and oddly, lovelier than he remembered her. For the last years, he had pointedly summoned in his mind the image of the mountain of flesh, water splashing almost audibly in her limbs and torso at the slightest movement, her cheeks ready to burst, eyes hidden in fat and face covered with brown spots that all the paint in the world could not mask. Anger had entirely replaced his guilt over being the reason for this repulsive state of hers. But now, she looked more beautiful than she had at the time of their wedding, even with being prematurely aged. It was strange indeed.

"Where is Lyanna?" he asked sharply. He wanted to hate Alynna, had hated her just before he had entered. He wanted her to hate him as well. At least things would be clear then, instead of this whirlwind ravaging his mind – anger, betrayal and this utmost sadness that confused him more than anything else.

"She's on her way home," Alynna said. "I never intended to do her ill… well, at least when my first anger passed," she added honestly.

Yes, that was more like her. "I should consider myself lucky that I didn't experience firsthand what you would have liked to do to me," he said coldly, "if stealing my crown is the lesser evil in your eyes."

She tried to laugh contemptuously but it came out rather pained. "No crown is worth what you put me through those first few months," she spat. "Your crown? Do you know what your father intended to do? He was going to disinherit you for Viserys! The parchments were ready. He was about to make the announcement as soon as he was over with the Stark. The children and I would have been kept in the Red Keep forever as a leverage against you because he was mad enough to think that you cared about us. That you would have come back once you heard."

"And you think I wouldn't have?" he flared up. "Didn't your father tell you what happened when I got to know that you were about to go to King's Landing? I was going to come back!"

She didn't look surprised. "Yes," she said. "This time, perhaps. And perhaps you would even have stayed. If we made it out of that unscathed. But for how long? Where were you intending to stash your Lyanna? How long would it have been before you turned your back on us for her again – or someone like her?"

In her mind, there was no doubt that whatever Rhaegar felt for Lyanna, it could not be love. To Alynna, someone who could not love their children could not love anyone. And no matter what he claimed now, he had been ready to while away years in Essos without even bothering to think what his mad father might do to them. With time, she had even started feel kind of pity for Lyanna who had wanted freedom and love – and fidelity, by what she had learned about her – and found none. After all, when Alynna had been her age, she had been very reluctant to share her future husband with others as well.

"That's why you chose to rob me in advance?" he asked, voice rising. Colour rose to his cheeks as anger propelled him out of his chair. Immediately, Arthur made a step forward, as quick as Rhaegar knew him. But Rhaegar didn't advance on Alynna. He only glared at her. "I don't believe you. About my father, I mean. You've been lying on the whole realm for years…"

"Was I?" she shot back. "You were about to waste all our chances to succeed on the throne – all the stability in the realm – no matter if you wanted to or not! Even if I haven't stopped you on the way to your glorious escape, the results would have still been the same. You turned your back to all our efforts – and you expected that I'd keep fighting just to hand you the fruit of my labour like I did with my actual labour?" She laughed. "I am your wife, not your mother."

"Unfortunately!"

"Yes, indeed! But take heart, you can always take another wife in Essos. A fierce wolf like Lyanna Stark or a nice girl who would latch onto your every word."

He almost didn't register the bait. "Essos?"

"Yes. Tonight, you're leaving – you and Whent. And I hope you never come back and create trouble for Aegon."

"Trouble for you, you mean," he spat.

"This is the same thing," she snapped back. "And you aren't included in our unity because you excluded yourself the moment you decided that having her was worth ruining our family and destroy our future."

She was now standing as well, glaring at her with the same anger that he was glaring at her with. Her lips were drawn and against the paneling made golden by the fire, she looked like an enraged lionesses – or she-wolf. Hungry. Rabid.

All in all, Rhaegar had been right. Her wounded pride had played part in her decision to act.

"You're leaving for Essos," Alynna said again with visible effort to collect herself. "And I will avail myself of the result of the years I spent trying to make the situation stable."

"And did you succeed?" Rhaegar asked with morbid curiosity.

She went to the table, poured herself a goblet of wine and, surprisingly, poured one for him as well. Rhaegar didn't think she was even thinking of her actions. She was just this ladylike – always offer to the other person in the table. Arthur, though, didn't get one – he was on duty.

"I sent Varys packing," she said. Rhaegar noticed that she did not mention where she had sent the eunuch. Wise of her, perhaps. "And I made marriage alliances with most of the Great Houses. Including the Starks," she mentioned, just in case he had some ideas. "Benjen Stark in in the Tor now. He'll be wed to my daughter in a few years. Mace Tyrell's daughter would be Aegon's queen one day."

With this in mind, Rhaegar could basically outline the other marriage ties she had in mind. Not a bad move at all. His eyes went to Dyanna Dayne's portrait and he felt a profound sadness that her descendants had reached such a point. Just like her marriage, his own had been meant to bring only unity and prosperity. And perhaps it had. Perhaps the Seven Kingdoms were being ruled well by her great-granddaughter, the traitor. His fury was suddenly flavoured with something like relief. Whatever happened now would not be his fault. He had tried to help the world but the world had not known this and had thusly condemned him. Lyanna had left him and he hoped she'd find happiness in her North; Alynna would never take him back even if he could force himself to touch her ever again. Clearly neither of them would be the mother of his third head. Perhaps he had been wrong again. Perhaps he could just pursue his lifelong passion with books and old scrolls, instead of trying to create a family with a woman who was a stranger to him in everything?

Pain flared through him. All that was good and right but he'd have to make a sacrifice. Accepting the situation would mean never seeing his children again. He had doted upon Rhaenys and while he had barely seen Aegon at all, he wanted to. But doing so would only wreck more havoc in their lives and even end them, quite possibly. Their mother had made sure of that. He swallowed, wondering if she had done it on purpose, backing him into a corner she knew he would not try to fight his way out of. It was a terrible feeling, loving one's children and resenting their mother.

"Is my father alive?" he asked with a bated breath. Despite everything, Aerys was his father – and he had been a good one for many years.

"Yes," Alynna said. "He's taken care of."

He didn't know if he should trust her on this. But why not? What did she have to gain by lying? "What about my mother? Viserys?"

"They both live in comfort at King's Landing," Alynna replied. "As well as your new sister. Daenerys, she's named." Despite the fraught relationship she had with Rhaella, or perhaps because of it, she wasn't about to let the old Queen out of her sight.

To her own surprise, she decided against telling Rhaegar about the exact circumstances surrounding Daenerys' birth. Rhaella had never spoken a word but handmaidens were quite garrulous.

It went without saying that no message of Rhaegar's would reach them; the resentful glare he sent in her direction told her that he realized this much. "And my mother is fine?" he wanted to know.

Alynna smiled a little. His love for his mother had always been one of the things that made him more relatable to her. "I daresay she's found some happiness," she said. "Of course, she cannot wed again."

 _And neither can you_ , Rhaegar thought gleefully. Her vengefulness had left her stranded on this account. She'd never take the risk.

Alynna sat back, clearly overcoming her emotions. "I'll take care that you have a comfortable life, Rhaegar. The Iron Bank will ensure this. Just as far as you don't make any threatening moves."

And she'd know if he did. He wondered why she was bothering with this and not simply killed him. Perhaps she was scared of building upon her children's father's very blood, just like he'd never have her executed if he had the chance, ever. He resumed his seat as well. "What happened to Jon Connington?" he asked and was surprised to see a flash of guilt in her eye. He leaned forward, his heart in his mouth. If she wouldn't do anything to Lyanna, she certainly hadn't done anything this bad to Jon, right? He had never offended her. He simply disliked her but never gone beyond a scathing remark or two in front of Rhaegar – well, more than two when she had lost her looks in the last months of her pregnancy.

"He was exiled," Alynna said. "But I didn't have his lands forfeit. He still has a good life in the Free Cities. I have never wished to do him harm."

Was she apologizing? Because of _Jon_ whom she seems to have treated quite leniently? He understood her just as little as when she had first come to him with a smoother forehead and a smile that hid so much grief. "I guess that's it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Unless you wish something else?"

"Yes," he said. "Tell me about the children. They aren't here with you?"

"No."

He hadn't truly expected it but it still hurt. The fact that he had to hear about them from her was outrageous but that was the hand he had been dealt. The hand that he, despite everything, would choose again if given the chance, for those two months of unhindered happiness.

It was late at night when she finally stopped talking. She had poured wine a few more times, for both of them, and they were now quite tired. Only Arthur looked alert. When she finally ran out of things to say, she rose abruptly and went to the window, staring out into the night. Silently, Rhaegar rose and went to the door. He heard another door opening and when he turned back, he thought he was seeing things. A man who looked very much like him, as if he was his specter, had appeared out of nowhere and now crossed the room and wrapped an arm around her waist. Alynna leaned her head against his shoulder just before Rhaegar closed the door. He looked at the elderly man waiting for him in the hallway. "He is…" he started.

The man nodded. "My son," he said. "Errol."

Rhaegar looked at him, astounded. "And you let this go on…" From the things the servants had whispered he knew that the heir of Salt Shore had no intention to wed. Now, things became clear. Errol Gargalen probably wouldn't wed at all, not while he was with someone as volatile as Alynna.

Mikkel Gargalen smiled a little sadly. "This isn't the relationship I would have chosen for him," was all he said, and Rhaegar was left wondering. All that had happened was worth it for him, even the life in secrecy that awaited him. Would it be worth it for his faithless wife who'd have to spend the rest of her life on the alert, hiding her love in the shadows?

He'd never know…

 **The End**


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